Mixed Messages
by NotFlyingWithOtters
Summary: Mixed messages, mixed emotions... it can only mean one thing! Martha has a breakdown over the phone without realizing it. An insight into the emotions surrounding Bloom/Brendan and Martha in the aftermath of the season finale. T for self-harm/breakdown
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, second Identity fic, multi-chapter for sure. Okay, this is a weird one. We all know Martha is suicidal and depressed. We also know that Bloom is gone (for now!) and this fic will have a lot of mixed emotions. Possibly OOC or A/U, although the latter is unlikely. Please enjoy (:**

**Martha  
**

The cuts on her wrists were fresh, still tender as her sleeve brushed against them, earning a startled gasp from between her slightly parted lips. The concealer she had hastily applied did a poor job at covering the raised flesh, the light tan that had once blended so perfectly now a pale orange on her wan skin. When had she last been in the sun? She didn't remember. Her tiredness showed, huge, dark bruises beneath her eyes from lack of sleep and a tremor in her hands. She blinked away the rush of hot, prickly tears beneath her eyelids and shook her short, auburn hair over her face. She felt a rush of tiredness crash over her and a longing for coffee began to pang deep inside, a longing for the caffeine that would mean she wouldn't have to sleep, and wouldn't have to relive all the memories in her dreams.

'God damn it!' She shouted as the familiar drag of tiredness pulled at her muscles, grabbed her down into its dark embrace. She just wanted to scream and swear and shout until her throat burned and her lungs felt like they were going to burst. Tears were streaming down her face now, and she couldn't breathe for the queer tightness in her chest as if someone was pressing down on her ribs, causing every beat of her heart to hurt. She dropped to her knees, the razor blade still held in two fingers, the angle of it making it bite into the sensitive skin of her fingertips and draw small beads of blood. She was beyond caring, or even noticing.

The other cuts, on the inside of her legs and across her stomach were sending spikes of pain across each wound that were crippling. She curled up, her eyes welling up again as a scream escaped her lips, a terrible, heart-wrenching scream. This was why the neighbours never troubled her, never came to see if she was okay. She had been screaming for too long. Cuts crisscrossed her arms and legs and once again she buried her head in her hands, pushing her knuckles against her forehead. The movement caused the clotting blood to rip apart and start a slow trickle down her wrist again. A scream was ripped from her again, involuntarily exploding from her slightly parted lips once more.

'Shit!' She exclaimed once again, the blood staining the cuffs of her long, shapeless white jumper she was wearing. The concealer was now well and truly gone, no longer failing at covering the cuts. Her eyes burned with tears she had been unable to shed at work, unable to even think about crying at work. Tessa was a tech whiz, and she didn't put it past the willowy brunette to check the security tapes for fun, just to make a point that she could. And Anthony… Anthony was one of those people who had to prove he was better at everything, the one that had to be the boss and make a point. It took most of her energy just to be civil to him nowadays.

And then there was José, the other one, and the one that slunk in the shadows and hid in the background. The one that was never noticed, and also the one that was the most important. He was the glue that kept the team together. John. That's all that was left. John. Or Brendan. Whatever floated his boat. He could be whoever he was now that he was gone. But he wasn't truly gone. One shred of him lingered in her memory and on her skin, from every slight brush of hands, to when she had dropped to her knees beside him in a state of frenzy when he fell. He had laughed, his breath gently ruffling her hair and brushing her face. That too lingered in her memory. And his fingerprints on her door, on her work surface, on her desk, and she couldn't bear to wipe them away. She needed something to remind her that he did exist, that what she felt for him was real. Her heart skipped another beat as she thought of his eyes, his beautiful Irish voice and the way he was so careful with his touches. She found herself screaming again.

'John!' She was screaming for him, the way a lover would, twisting her hands into her hair and rocking slightly backwards and forwards on her floor. She curled up into a foetal position, running her hands through her hair, untangling the knots that her own hands had made a few moments earlier. She was trembling, the blood on her sleeves cool and sticky on her skin, her hair a snarled mess. She sobbed once, a dry, choking sob.

'Oh God… John…' She knew then, in her heart, that she loved him. And always had. The night she had called him for a 'tipple' and a stronger rush when he had been hurt. And somewhere in her heart she wondered if he loved her too. When she had been kidnapped, all he had done was hunt her down and find her. Save her. But now her head was confused and her heart was too, she didn't know what to do. A song that had been playing on the radio a few weeks ago suddenly sprung into her mind.

_Keeping me awake_

_It's been like this now for day_

_My heart is out at sea_

_My head all over the place…_

'Christ that's how I feel.' She muttered, after whispering the lyrics softly to herself brokenly, the words barely heard by her own ears. Her phone was lying on the ground beside her and she leaned over to take a look, her heart leaping into her chest.

'Oh shit… shit… shit, shit, shit!' She ran her hands through her hair again and panicked, her eyes growing wide as she stared at the image on the screen.

_Phone call with John Bloom, 67:23_

'No…' She disconnected the call and once again curled up. 'No.'

**Please enjoy and send me lots of reviews to make me happy (sorry if I disappear off the face of the earth for a while...)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Woo another chapter :D thanks to Dodgy for reviewing, there is much love for you and cyber-cookies. Yes I know it's depressing, but it does get better (: I promise. Now, please enjoy (I like Bloom in this, all protective and macho xD)**

**John  
**

John stared at his phone in shock, the piece of technology dropping from his nerveless fingers. Martha had… Martha was… breaking down? Broken down? He didn't know, and frankly, he cared. A lot. Martha was his friend and colleague. _Ex-colleague_. He reminded himself harshly. So… just a friend then. Well, not even that, he thought bitterly, annoyed at himself for his actions in the hours during her disappearance. But he had saved her life… A myriad of emotions and thoughts were flooding his mind, causing his hands to shake.

'Damn it Martha.' His Irish tones were harsh as he cursed himself for thinking ill of her, cursed himself for hating her. It wasn't her fault. She was mentally unstable, completely and utterly fragile beyond belief. And yet here he was, not returning her calls or replying to her texts, listening to her break down and not doing anything to help. She was not the person she had once been. In fact, she was self-destructing. That was the only way to describe it, self-destruction. And this time… it was his fault. He closed his china blue eyes fractionally and desperately hoped that an answer would come, would magically formulate in his mind. To his complete surprise – it didn't. He reached for his phone again and heard the soft sobbing coming through the tinny speakers, and then the dial tone.

'No, oh no. Martha.' His eyes snapped open and he picked up the phone, still hot from what remained of his body heat. He shrugged his jacket on and turned the collar down with his hand, his fingers lingering on the faux leather for a few seconds and then he rammed them deep into his pockets. Grabbing his car keys from the side he nearly sprinted through the door and wrenched it open, the icy rain beating down on him within seconds. He didn't try to cover his face with his hands, wasn't up to bothering with the elements. Instead, all he did was run to the door, chilled fingers fumbling for the button on his keys that would disable the central locking. His fingers slid over the wet car door handle and the numbness caused him to nearly drop his keys as he scrambled inside. The car was frigid, his breath coming out in white puffs as his breathing increased, filled with worry. Martha was at her house, possibly bleeding out. He closed his eyes as he twisted the key in the ignition, the thrumming roar of the engine filling his mind and blocking out any other sounds.

'C'mon Martha…' He muttered to himself, keeping his hands glued to the wheel as he navigated the slick London back streets.

**oOo**

He slicked back his hair for a moment, ruffled it, smoothed it again and then ruffled it. He wasn't really expecting Martha to answer the door, but if she did he didn't want to look like a drowned rat. Which was, of course, exactly what he looked like since the rain had pounded down on him. And of course, according to his idea, there was no answer to the door. He pounded on it again.

'Martha? Martha are you in there?' The lights were off and her car was in the drive. He chanced it and walked around the side of the house. The only light on was one in the living room, and Bloom could see Martha collapsed on the floor. 'Oh shit. Martha!' She didn't move at all. He raced around to the front, his feet sliding on the wet grass. The door was flimsy, just some painted wood that was rotting and splintering anyway. He kicked the lock in and the door crashed open with a harsh splintering sound, banging back against the wall after connecting with his foot. 'Martha! Hold on.' He careered into her living room, keeping his wits about him and his eyes fixed firmly on the prone figure of the woman in front of him. There was an empty bottle of vodka lying broken on the floor beside her.

The carpet was dry. In the other hand was a bottle of pills with the word Prozac on the label. He backed away slightly, his hand still on the dry carpet where splinters of broken glass were lying. Then he went back, rolling her over, away from the vodka bottle and picked up the bottle. He shook her shoulders gently, muttering her name into her ear and tipping her head back. The slight puffs of air that escaped her lips reeked of alcohol, so much that he wrinkled his nose the way he did in hospitals. She had definitely overdosed, the bottle was empty and her wrists were red. He dialled 999 on his phone, answered all the questions and then peeled back her jumper from her wrists.

'Whoa. Martha… I'm sorry.' He whispered, dabbing her wrists and blotting them with the cuffs of his shirt, the scarlet stain spreading across the white cotton. Martha didn't even move, her auburn hair already over her face, her eyes closed. There were bruised circles under her eyes and her chest moved shallowly as she breathed, the alcohol making Bloom's nose twitch again. 'Martha listen to me, you're gonna be okay, alright?' She didn't move. 'Martha? Damn it! Hold on Martha!' Martha's breath came weaker and weaker, even as Bloom scrabbled for her hand, felt her chest, struggling to feel for her heartbeat. Her pulse faltered, skipping beats and racing ahead then slowing again. It became weak and thready. There was a flash of bright blue light through the door and the wail of a siren. Bloom stepped back and the paramedics rushed in, crowding around his fallen co-worker. _Ex-co-worker_ he chided himself again. They were a whirlwind in green and silver and John felt himself being pushed out of the way as they worked on her, worked around her.

'What has she taken?' He found himself being asked.

'The fucking bottle's right there.'

'Sir! You could save her life.' The blonde paramedic stared at him with her grey eyes.

'Prozac, Vodka…'

'And the cuts on her arm?' She leaned towards him and placed an arm on the wall.

'She was depressed and suicidal. Where do you fucking think?' Bloom rubbed his face, then realizing that his hands were bloody. She looked affronted.

'Sorry for troubling you sir.' She said stiffly and Bloom stared at his hand.

'Will she be alright?' He choked out.

'Touch and go. Are you family?'

'What…? No… just… she's my boss.' The woman shot him a look. 'And my friend.'

'You can follow the ambulance. Now, sir, if you'd let me do my job.'

'Yeah. Sorry.' Bloom leaned back against the wall and stared as they wheeled Martha out on a gurney.

**Reviewsies pretty pleasies? Much love for you**


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, another chapter at about 11 at night. Again. I apologize for that. Please enjoy this chapter. (I made up the bit about the toilets but I though it could be plausible especially because she was depressed) Tessa is such a pushy woman isn't she! Never mind, I think it makes Bloom see what he's going to be up against if he comes back. (: Love it as much as I loved writing it (and it _does _get better I promise.)**

**Tessa  
**

It wasn't the first time Tessa had found Martha crying in the toilets, and nor was it to be the last. She could recall every single moment of the first time it had happened, the first time Martha had broken.

The young woman was sat on the toilet, her head in her hands and her faded auburn hair hanging over her face. Tessa squatted down to her level and touched Martha on the arm, startled to see how pale and drawn her once-beautiful boss had become. Martha's grey-green eyes that had once held so much warmth and friendliness had once sparkled with happiness and love were now dull.

'Martha.' Tessa murmured throatily, wondering if her boss had even noticed she was there in that moment. Martha raised her head and looked straight at Tessa with eyes wide and frightened. Tessa had to stifle her gasp at the state Martha was in. Her coal black mascara had run down her face in her tear tracks, and her eyes were ringed with black. Her skin was white, paper white and her eyes looked huge. 'Martha look at me okay?' Martha shook her head slightly.

'God Tessa I'm so sorry.'

'What's to be sorry, we all get like this once a month right?' Tessa flashed the younger woman a smile, not realizing that Martha's mind was racing ahead.

'Yeah, we all feel fragile from time to time.' Martha smiled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. 'Thanks Tessa.'

'Are you sure you're going to be okay?' Martha nodded and Tessa touched her hand the way a friend would.

But now she knew that Martha wasn't, and, she doubted that after the abduction, she would be for a ling time. After the first time, Martha had been more uptight than usual, more guarded about her emotions. More of a robot that a human being. And then it had happened again. Tessa had walked into the toilets, intent on redoing her make-up and was once again greeted by the sound of sobbing from one of the stalls.

'Martha?' Once again Tessa walked along the row until she found the unlocked door and pushed it open with the flat of her hand. 'Martha, this is the second time this month. What's wrong?' Martha shook her head numbly.

'No, I'm fine. I'm just having a bad time.' Martha forced a smile onto her pale, tired face and Tessa folded her arms disbelievingly.

'Martha.' The willowy brunette stared at her boss with a steely glare and then remembered that she was a fragile woman. 'Talk to me.' Martha closed her eyes.

'I'm just going through a rough patch, okay?' She wiped her eyes with her sleeve and stood up, looking in the mirror and hastily reapplying her mascara and eyeliner. She ran a basin full of water, wiping the streaks of black off of her face with a trembling hand. Tessa didn't believe her, but she had no choice, Martha had already scrambled off and away to wherever she usually was.

**oOo**

And now she was relaxing in the bath, trying to wash away the filth of the people that had taken Martha from them. She had taken Martha home that night, sat with her and drunk a glass of wine in her desolately empty house, which was bleakly depressing. John Bloom had decided to vanish off the face of the earth and it was heartbreaking to see how Martha pined. It was plain to see the anguish on her co-worker's face and for Tessa, the people person, to not be able to help… it really hurt. It hurt to see anyone hurting, but when it was her boss, maybe even her friend who was hurting, she found that she couldn't bear it. She ducked her head under the water and closed her eyes, her hair slicked back and sticking to her neck. Her phone rang shrilly, startling her out of her reverie and her warm bathwater. She groaned loudly and then wrapped her towel around her, reaching her hand out for her mobile.

'Tessa. God help me this better be important Bloom.' She snapped as soon as she picked it up, becoming very suddenly aware that Bloom was calling her.

'Tessa it is. Really it is.' He sounded so resigned that Tessa felt her ears prick up.

'What happened?' Tessa heard ragged breathing on the other end of the line, followed by a loud sigh.

'It's Martha… I… I went over to see her to try to explain and grovel for my job back but… she was passed out on the floor with a smashed and empty bottle of vodka in one hand and a bottle of Prozac in the other. They took her to hospital.' Tessa froze in her tracks, her blood suddenly running icy cold.

'Okay, can you pick me up on the way?' There was silence on the other end of the line and she paused, hardly even breathing.

'Yeah… yeah okay.' His voice was flat, dull. She spoke a quick goodbye into the microphone and ended the call, all senses now on high alert. She wrapped her hair up in a soft white towel and quickly dressed, pulling on her red jumper and jeans whilst quickly trying to dry her hair without a hairdryer. It was still damp and frizzy when the doorbell rang. She ran her fingers through her hair and opened it, staring at Bloom. He looked like a broken man.

'Jesus Bloom… you look like a zombie.' Her vague attempt at humour didn't even register on his haunted features. 'Okay, sorry, that was completely tactless.' Bloom gave her a grim smile. 'What happened Bloom?' Her voice was softer, tenderer than it was before. Bloom stared at her for a moment, gathering his thoughts.

'I think… I think she tried to kill herself. She'd been depressed for months but…'

'I… I know. She cried in the toilets at least three times a month.' Tessa and Bloom both didn't know why they were sharing this information with each other.

'We need to go…'

'No… stay here, just… I'll tell you what I know when I get there.'

'But I wanted to be picked up…'

'Tessa, please. Trust me on this.'

'Why should I, Bloom? You vanished off the face of the earth and now you expect me to trust you?' Her blood was boiling and her cheeks were flushed with anger.

'Please Tessa. Please, please just let me go.'

'No. I'm coming with you.' She grabbed her coat. 'Lead the way.'

**Pretty please reviewsies? Much love for you (:**


	4. Chapter 4

**Another chapter, and this time a ta reasonable time! I had this finished last night but I only just got up and read through, changed it, and posted it. The next chapter is Martha for sure, and then we have some diary reading (yes, I thought it would be a good touch) So, read and review for more. Thanks to: Dodgy, ladyoinored and Afroza-IX. You all get cyber marshmallow cookies (:  
Disclaimer: I own nothing... wish I did, but alas my secret army of unicorns and ninja's and Chuck Norris are hunting around the clock for the creators so taht they make another series the way I want... *evil grin***

**Bloom**

He shrugged his coat over his shoulders and allowed Tessa to follow him; his shoulders already slumped in defeat. He felt dirty, useless. Tessa was behind him for sure, he could feel her gaze on the back of his neck and hear her breathing behind him as it danced across his neck. He wanted, more than anything, to turn around and drive to his flat, crawl into bed and not think. But he couldn't, there was no way in hell he could. He simply _had _to stay strong for Tessa. For Martha. She had opened up to him, maybe not intentionally, but all the same she had let go of her emotions, let go of what was holding her steady and cried for help. It had been inadvertent, he had decided that a few moments after ending the call, but he knew that somewhere in her mind she needed help.

'Bloom?' He was startled into reality by Tessa's voice and turned to look at her, keeping the torture out of his face.

'Yes?' He also made a husky indecipherable noise at the back of his throat.

'Are you going to unlock the car… or…?' He shook his head muzzily, clearing the cloud from within his brain.

'Oh… sorry.' He clicked the central locking off and opened the door with a groan, sliding inside and holding the steering wheel in a vice-like grip. He felt the plastic cutting into his fingers and stared straight ahead, not even putting the key in the ignition.

'John?' Tessa was impatient. 'Get out. I'm driving. Though why you're in pieces I don't know.' She was unsympathetic and he numbly slid out of the door and she took over his place in the driving seat.

'I'll tell you why I'm in pieces, Tessa.' He snapped when he was in the passenger seat, all traces of sadness vanishing at her harsh tone. 'I _found _her. I was the one that cared enough to check up on her and I found her like that!' Tessa looked shocked at his unprovoked outburst.

'You… you found her? Just… lying there?' She raised a trembling hand to her face and dragged it over, trying to make some feeling come back. Bloom nodded, now uncertain of what Tessa was thinking. 'But it's your fault.' She told him, turning and fixing her glare on him.

'I know. Which is why I went to apologize… but she… she was already unconscious. Tessa she could be bloody dead right now for all we know. And I _know _it's my fault, don't make me feel any worse than I already do, okay?' Tessa fixed him with a steely glare again. He shrugged his shoulders and tried to shrink into the material of the seat. Unsurprisingly, it didn't work. In fact, it didn't even come close to working.

'Okay. Fine. But Martha is my friend, John, don't forget that.' Tessa keyed the ignition, and they were driving along the wet road towards the hospital where the paramedics had taken Martha.

'I won't.' He finally answered, leaning back in his sit with a curious rigidity. He could almost hear Martha's weak, thready heartbeat again; feel the blood, her blood on his hands. Tessa looked at him, his arms folded with one palm exposed, a thin streak of blood traversing it.

'John? Is that Martha's blood?' He raised his head to her and nodded, not bothering to talk. The blood had dried, and his hands felt stiff and strange. The car's sweeping headlights lit up the sign for the hospital, the silvery beams illuminating the metal. Tessa turned the wheel and they were in the car park. It was curiously empty for the time of night, usually all the drunks came into A&E during the night. John knew this because a few times, the drunk had been him. It wasn't something he was proud of. Tessa parked the car, shocking him back to reality. They stepped out and Tessa walked off to find the ticket machine. He tipped his head back to look at the stars, not that he could see many, London's light pollution made sure of that. Tessa returned, opening the car and sticking the ticket to the window. For some reason that annoyed him, he never stuck it to the window, only ever rested it on the dashboard. They stood in silence for a moment. Tessa turned to look at the car, hugging herself in the frigid air. When she turned, Bloom's figure was gone.

**oOo**

He just couldn't face it. Couldn't face Tessa's unsympathetic demeanour and how she looked at him. He _knew _it was his fault; he didn't need her to be his constant, nagging reminder that he may have killed a co-worker. Tessa did like him; in fact, they might have even got along well if Martha hadn't been kidnapped. In fact, everyone except Anthony would have gotten on great with him… if this hadn't happened.

'Damn it!' He looked at his palms, the dried blood streaking across it. He could even remember every last second of the scene at her house. Her breathing had been laboured, her heartbeat faltering, failing. The blood leaking from her cuts staining his hands and the hem of his shirt. He had reached the door of the hospital, looking once behind him to be sure that Tessa hadn't followed his zigzagging course to them, and walked inside. He looked a fright, he knew he did. Ignoring the looks from the people in the door, mainly orderlies with clipboards, and went to the desk. The stench of hospital disinfectant made his nose wrinkle with distaste, the harsh lights making him blink. He felt like he was underwater.

'Can I help you?' The woman at the desk was pretty, really pretty. She had a heart shaped face and long light hair. Her eyes were a deep green. John shook his head for a moment.

'Yes. Ms Lawson. She came in earlier in an ambulance, suspected overdose.' The woman lowered her gaze to the computer screen and tapped a few keys, accessing the hospital records. She raised her eyes back to him and sighed.

'ICU. She's had charcoal and her stomach's been pumped. She might be awake.' The woman lowered her eyes again. Bloom felt his heart skip a beat at the mention of Martha being awake.

'Thank you.' He turned the corner and followed the signs for intensive care, his heart fluttering in his chest. It wasn't a pleasant feeling. He saw her then, lying washed out in the hospital bed. His heart panged. She was so thin, the clothes had covered it well, but how he could see how skinny she was. There was hardly anything to her, like she would just crumble if he touched her. She had a breathing tube in and some IV fluids with some complicated name that he couldn't be bothered to read. All he knew was that she was sick. Really, really sick. He pushed open the door with a quiet hiss, desperately hoping she'd open her eyes.

'Martha?' His voice was husky. Her eyelids fluttered. 'Martha?'

**Please review, first multi-chapter Identity fic! Reviews feed the muse (and the plot-bunnies, don't let them die! :L) Love for all who have reviewed before (:**


	5. Chapter 5

**Depression in this one, sorry guys, I think this got a bit OOC, I hope not, but if it did, let me know. A little Bloom/Martha tension building for you. It all ends well eventually, please enjoy and keep my plot bunnies alive (:  
Disclaimer: I own nothing... wish I did, but alas my secret army of unicorns and ninja's and Chuck Norris are hunting around the clock for the creators so that they make another series the way I want... *evil grin*  
_(No more disclaimers after this I promise)_**

**Martha**

Martha slowly opened her eyes to his voice, his panic-stricken, caring voice. The hospital lights were too bright, piercing, hurting. She felt a little part of her cry internally. _She wasn't dead._ Bloom was standing uncomfortably in the doorway, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot as he watched her. As she watched, he ran a hand through his curly mop of salt and pepper hair, still staring at her bed.

'Martha?' His voice was husky and quiet, barely a whisper in the silence of the room. If he hadn't spoken, the only noise would have been the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor and the hiss of oxygen in her breathing tube. She could speak if she wanted to, but what would she say to him? _Hello, sorry for ruining your night? _Even in her head it sounded stupid. 'Martha look at me, please.' It wasn't a question, and Martha found herself looking directly at him, it was like bloody magnetism and she hated herself for it. Her heart skipped a beat and the heart monitor gave a frightened bleep, as if warning her it would tell someone.

'John.' She acknowledged him and clenched the thin hospital blankets in one fist, forcing the flutter in her chest she got every time she saw him to go away.

'Martha… I thought you… I…' His voice trailed off into nothingness and he bit down on his lip again. She then noticed that his hands were streaked with dried blood. She tried to sit up, but a gasp of pain escaped her lips as she tried. Bloom walked briskly across the room and touched her hand gently. 'I honestly thought you were going to die tonight.' She placed her hand on top of his, her eyes brimming with tears.

'I'm sorry.' She whispered, her throat raw from where they'd pumped her stomach and made her vomit until it hurt to breathe, hurt to be. Then they'd flushed her system with activated charcoal. Her mouth tasted disgusting, of antiseptic, stomach acid and chalky vodka. She closed her eyes, a tear escaping from under the lids.

'Don't be sorry, Martha. You need help.' Bloom sounded like her therapist and she though he should know this. She took her hands away from his and wiped her eyes, the dressings on her wrists itching.

'You sound like my therapist.' She smiled weakly at him, barely veiling how awful she felt. Bloom wasn't fooled by her smile for a moment.

'Martha talk to me. I know that you're hiding something, that behind your horrifically fake smile there is something you're not telling me. I'm not asking to know now, I just want you to know that you can trust me, okay?'

'Yeah. Right. And risk you vanishing off the face of the Earth again? Thanks but no thanks Bloom.' Her coldness shocked him to the core and he felt a flush rise in his cheeks.

'I won't. I swear on my life.' She glared at him as best she could, her eyes suddenly swimming with tears again. He leaned over and wiped a stray one from her cheek with his thumb. 'You need someone, Martha. I… want to be someone you can trust.'

'Can I trust you, Bloom, I mean, honestly? I don't know who to trust any more.' She bit down on her lip as his hand stroked hers. She would not give in to such stupid emotions.

'You need help, Martha. What about therapy? I mean, like rehab or something.' She stared at him.

'Are you mad? I'll get kicked off the force. I can't. I'll just keep going to my therapist and things will get better.'

'Martha. You overdosed on anti-depressants. And I doubt you'll get kicked off the force for this. I think you should.' Bloom persuaded her, coaxed her.

'No, Bloom. That's final. I'll go to my therapist more if I have to. But Bloom…'

'John. Martha I'm not your teacher. For now, I'm your friend.'

'Okay… John… I'm going to need your help. If you're as devoted to this as you sound, if I'm really your... project… you need to know about me, right?' Bloom looked at her a little strangely.

'Not for a while. I just need to be there for you every step of the way, get you back on your feet, get you off anti-depressants and get you better.' She smiled.

'Okay.' He touched her hand gently and then stood up. 'Where are you going?' Her voice was panicky.

'I left Tessa in the car park. I think she might kill me if I don't get back. Martha, this is something I can't ignore, you tried to commit suicide tonight, and I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen again. When they let you go, I'll pick you up. Okay?' She groaned inwardly. Why had she allowed him to help her? She was beginning to regret taking his offer.

'Fine. Goodnight, Bloom.' He smiled at her, the adorable lopsided smile and kissed the top of her head the way a worried friend would.

'Goodnight Martha.' He left, the door hissing slowly shut behind him. She half expected it all to have been a dream, that he hadn't actually been here. But her hand was still warm from his hand, and she gingerly reached up to touch her hair where he had kissed her. She had felt a fluttering in her stomach when his lips had brushed her hair, even though she knew nothing would ever come of it; it was just a lonely fantasy. Her wrists ached, her legs ached and her throat stung where they'd put the tube to pump her stomach. Her stomach felt weird now too, like it was full of water. She curled up in a ball, one hand unconsciously going to trace the raised tissue on her inner thighs where the razor blade had so easily penetrated the once soft skin. A nurse came into her room and started talking to her, but Martha didn't really care.

'We're going to take this tube out now.' The nurse told her, removing the slim plastic tube from her nose, unhooking it from her ears and folding it up in one hand. 'The oxygen mask is there if you need it, Ms Lawson.' Martha nodded, not able to concentrate on anything except the feel of John's skin on her own. She loved him, but nothing would ever come of it, nothing would ever happen between them. It was gone midnight before she finally fell asleep.

_Give up on him, Martha. He won't want you. You're mentally unstable, what could he possibly see in you? You're not even pretty... get over it._

**Depressed Martha again. I'm sorry... (love for all who reviewed before this_) _Reviews make me so happy (my therapist thinks I'm depressed apparently)**_  
_


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, I thought Bloom needed to be a little cute here (the end especially) and an insight into Martha's journal in the only colourful room in her house. I thought that we needed to see what Martha was really like. (3 chapters in one day. I'm on a freaking roll here!) Please feed plot bunnies! Love yaaa**

**John  
**

Bloom looked around the porch of Martha's house, thinking of the most likely place she would have kept a key because, even though he'd already broken the lock, he needed to look a tiny bit courteous. He flipped open his phone and dialled the number of a locksmith that he knew from… well… he wasn't going to go there.

'Phil? Yeah, I know it's late but tomorrow morning I need you to fix a lock I broke, can you do that? Call it a favour for a mate. Okay, great thanks.' Bloom relayed the address to the locksmith and then folded his phone down again, holding the key in one hand. He closed the door and tilted a chair up under the door handle, keeping the house vaguely secure. Then he placed a foot on the stairs, debating whether or not to go up them, one hand resting lightly on the banister.

'Sod it.' He muttered and placed another foot on the stairs, deciding that if he didn't go up them now, he wouldn't ever. The stairs creaked as he climbed them, his hand trailing all the way up the banister and leaving a trail through the thin dust that layered the white painted wood. There were only three doors upstairs, and he opened them all. One was a bathroom, just a plain white tiled bathroom with a white suite. No magazines, and only generic soap and shampoo in the shower. He backed out again, staring at the plain white wall on all sides.

He turned and opened the door on the left. It was her bedroom. It was plain white, with black curtains and a black bedspread. The carpet was cream and the dresser was a battered pine thing and a small wardrobe stood in the corner. It was sad how empty her house was and John found himself sitting on her bed, stroking her pillow and picking up one auburn hair that was lying stray on her pillow. He left that room too and opened the other door. This room was deep red, a black leather chair in the centre. That was all there was in the room apart from a single window. There was a leather-bound book on the chair and a biro resting on it. Knowing he shouldn't, he opened the book and peered at Martha's elegant, slanting handwriting. There were pages and pages of black letters, in varying states of neatness. He paused at the first entry, it wasn't dated but it said at the top: _The Identity Unit_

_Finally managed to convince him to take Bloom on, and I think it's a good think. He's an uncover agent. He'll be a valuable asset to the team. At least, I hope he will._

It was only short, and Bloom looked over it, his face creasing into a frown as he looked it over. There was another, dated a couple months ago.

_I don't know what to do. I can't do anything; I can't see anyone without seeing deceit any more. John Bloom, always on the phone, never telling me the truth. I can't do it any more. I've thought about it enough times, thought about how I'm going to do it and where. No one would care, not even Tessa, and she's seen me break down but she doesn't know the reason. What was I thinking? Why would he want to go for a 'tipple' with me? What's to like about me? What was I thinking? Damn it Martha, he won't like you. Ever. Get over it, get over yourself. Just. Give. Up._

Bloom sighed and traced the letters that had formed those words. If only she knew how much he truly cared. He flipped through and found one dated from the day she had been abducted. His heart stalled and he was scared of what she might have written; yet he forced himself to read it anyway.

_He saved my life. He saved me… does that mean he cares, or am I just reading into things too much? God my wrists, they ache so much it hurts to write. I wonder if I'll ever be able to read this again, because I want to remember. Okay… wow. Right, I guess I should start at the beginning because that would make sense. Right._

_Bloom came to me, he knocked on my door and came into my house, well, I let him in but… same thing. He saw how empty it was; he saw how depressed I was, and he even said I was depressed. He saw through my mask, through my façade. He saw the real me. I want, more than anything to tell him what I plan to do but… he's gone. And by going, he has proved how little he cared. He saved my life and I am endlessly grateful for that but I need him as a friend more than ever now. By the time he comes back, if he comes back, it will be too late for me. He will be tortured knowing that he could have saved me. I wish… I have one, pathetic wish that before he leaves… I wish that we could have had that 'tipple'. Who knows, maybe it would have led somewhere. I wish I knew. I wish I knew…_

Bloom couldn't read any longer and he threw the book to the floor, crumpling into himself as though the pain in his heart was too strong. He could see Martha sitting here, holed up in this room with her diary and pen, pouring her heart out with words she could never use. The page where she had written about ending her life was smudged with tears and he could see her, hands trembling as she wrote the words, desperately hoping that somebody would care enough to knock on her door. Bloom closed the diary again and left the room, turning off the bright halogen lights and closing the door behind him. He sat on the stairs, hands clenched with his head resting on them, unmoving for a moment.

'God Martha… I wish you knew how much I cared.' He rested his elbows on his knees and sighed, running a hand through his curly salt and pepper grey hair. And he meant it. He really did care about her; he really wanted her to get better. He was her friend, or at least, he hoped he counted as such to her. He went downstairs to the white sofa in the white lounge where Martha had been earlier and kicked his shoes off. He pulled his leather jacket off and curled up into a ball as he clambered onto the sofa that still smelled like her. People thought it was a girl thing to do, curl up on their boyfriend or husbands side of the bed and breathe in their scent. But Bloom did it too. Bloom curled up on her sofa and fell asleep breathing in Martha's scent that was so subtly citrusy and feminine.

**Martha has a sad, depressing house. Reviewsies for me pleaaaaaaaase? (Plot Bunnies need food and feeders are rewarded with cyber dinosaur shaped chocolate chip cookies!)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Man Martha has no self-esteem and I'm making it so overblown xD Hope you enjoy this chapter as per usual (: massive love for Dodgy and Afroza-IX (awesome hugs for you guys) for being constant. Love yaaa!**

**Martha**

Martha sighed and tapped another message out on her phone, forwarding it to Tessa, José and Anthony. It read as such:

_I'm ill, sorry guys. Anthony's in charge until I'm better_

Tessa knew the truth obviously, and she didn't even bother to text Bloom, he wasn't even working there any more. Sighing, she allowed the nurse to check her temperature and answered all the questions posed to her in a completely emotionless voice. The nurse touched her arm.

'Ms Lawson?' Martha shook her head, confused and then realized what she'd been asked.

'No. No I don't have any family.' The nurse nodded and scribbled it down on a clipboard, looking over Martha as she shivered in her thin clothes.

'So who's picking you up from here? A boyfriend?' The nurse's tone was jovial and joking but Martha found herself tearing up so she turned her head away.

'A colleague actually… I need to call him. Excuse me please.' The nurse looked at her worriedly, but backed out of the room anyway, watching Martha from the outside. Martha keyed in Bloom's number wearily, raising the phone to her ear. After three rings, he answered, his voice groggy.

'Martha?' When he was tired, his voice had more than an undertone of Irish accent, it was almost impossible to understand what he was saying.

'Bloom… no, John. They let me out, can you come get me?' There was the sound of heavy breathing on the other end of the phone and then the sound of a door opening.

'Sure, okay Martha. I'll see you in about ten minutes okay?' She nodded before realizing that he couldn't see her and then answered him, her voice breaking.

'Yeah… thanks John.' Tears were spilling slowly down her cheeks and he seemed to know even though he wasn't there, he seemed to sense something was wrong.

'What's wrong Martha? Are you okay?' She didn't answer, but her breathing was heavy and she sobbed once. There was a growl of a car engine on the other end of the phone and then she heard his voice again, less groggy than before. 'Martha?'

'I… Bloom I'm okay… well, no, I'm not but I can't really talk here.' The nurse was coming back in. 'Okay, see you soon, bye.' She ended the call and rubbed her face with her sleeve, the tears vanishing and her pale face only a little flushed. The nurse looked at her and Martha smiled unconvincingly, placing her phone in the pocket of the faded baggy jeans she had been wearing when Bloom had found her. She wouldn't normally wear jeans, but she just wanted to hide herself more than she had when she was wearing skirts and tights. She just wanted to disappear. She sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her head in her cupped hands, her faded auburn hair hanging over her face and in her eyes. She crossed her legs at the ankles, the denim chafing against the cuts on her legs and as she was hunched over, the cuts on her stomach ached from the position she was in. There was a hiss as the door opened and she looked up to see Bloom standing in the doorway, holding his keys in one hand.

'Hey.' She said softly, putting her arms back down to her sides and sitting up straighter, tossing her short hair over her shoulder.

'Hey.' He replied, walking forwards to her bed and touching her shoulder. 'You ready to go?' She stood up on wobbly legs and leaned on him for support, his arm subconsciously going around her shoulder. She nodded against his shoulder.

'Yeah… thanks.' She liked the way his arm was warm against her shoulder and she held on to him for longer than would have usually be considered normal.

'How are you feeling?' He unwound his arm from her shoulder, and she was thankful that this time she didn't have a heart monitor attached to her, it would be going haywire. She shrugged her shoulders and pulled her sleeves down over her hands.

'I'm alive.' He made an indistinct noise in the back of his throat and sighed.

'That's a good thing.' She looked at him with one eyebrow quirked. 'No, I mean it Martha. And I'm going to prove it to you, come on. Let's go.' She nodded and smiled weakly, her eyes once again clouding with tears she was afraid to shed. He walked her to the door of the hospital and they made their way across the car park towards Bloom's car. The bright sunlight was harsh on her ashen skin and she wanted nothing more than Bloom to run his fingers over her cuts and hold her whilst whispering in her ear that everything would be okay. He opened the door for her and she climbed in, suppressing a gasp as her position hurt her stomach and pulled at her thighs.

'Ow.' She whispered as she changed her position, only to find that it caused more pain to her body.

'What's wrong?' Bloom touched her wrists, tracing the red lines across them with a fingertip, the warmth making her shiver. 'It hurts, doesn't it.' It was a statement rather than a question and Martha nodded, ashamed that she had given into him.

'Yes.' He was silent and she wondered what was running through his head, he was probably thinking about Adile. _Stop thinking about him._ She told herself, but the other voice in the back of her head, the one that was usually silent piped up for a moment. _But he's here. He cares. Would he be here if he didn't? _She pushed that voice away and felt her eyes well up again._ He doesn't care about you. What is there to possibly see or like about you? _She wiped her eyes and looked away from him, staring out of the window with tears streaming down her face. Bloom touched her hand with his fingers and she turned to face him, tear tracks running down her pale face. She turned away quickly again and he dropped his hand, resuming his gaze on the road. She was staring out of the window when she noticed that they had passed the turning for her road, and therefore her house.

'Bloom? Where are we going? You just missed my house!' He looked at her and smiled the adorable lopsided smile again, taking one hand from the wheel.

'I know. You're coming to mine whilst I'm giving you therapy.' She glared at him.

'What? You know that if people see us together they will think something different.'

'Why would they? Unless they know us they'll just think we're a couple. And with me, we'll be adorable.' He smirked and she felt like punching him in the face.

'Brilliant. I thought you were supposed to help me!' He looked at her as best he could.

'I am. But your house is so depressing… so you're staying with me for a bit. Just so I can make sure you're okay before you go home.'

'But… I want my diary, and some other clothes, obviously.' Bloom smiled.

'It's already at my place.' Martha wanted to slap him again.

'You went into my room?'

'Martha why are you freaking out? I didn't look at it.' He handed it to her. 'Here.'

**Bloom's in trouble... (: Love for all reviewers (can I tempt you with waffles?)**


	8. Chapter 8

**A little bit of friendly fluff at the end (: (massive thanks to Afroza-IX for the shoutout in her story, you guys should read it it's freaking AWESOME. Called _Depression_ by the way) Some more depressing stuff but as I keep promising, it will get better. Eventually. Adile was just for effect, I doubt she'll be featured again xD The next chapter will be from Martha's point of view, and I might do one from Anthony's at the IDU.**

**John  
**

Bloom led Martha up the stairs to his top floor flat, her hand resting loosely on his hip as if she would lose herself if she had nothing to hold on to. He liked the way she needed him, liked the feel of her warmth on his even though he wouldn't admit it. She didn't need a boyfriend or a lover right now, she needed a friend; and he would be that friend. He would hold her steady so that she didn't need to rely on drugs of self-harm anymore. Her wrists were already scarred and who knew where else was too, ruined by the cruel cut of the icy knife. He placed his hand on hers and smiled to himself where she couldn't see.

He really was lucky to have landed the job with her, and lucky that she was, for now, a forgiving person. They reached the door to his flat and he slid the key in the lock, twisting it experimentally until the tumblers fell and the door opened. Martha took her hand off his hip and ducked under his arm into the warm flat. He was right. It was like her house. But it had more of an atmosphere, maybe because he hadn't been single for all that long or maybe because it was smaller. But it was definitely a good atmosphere. Bloom opened a door on the right and she ducked inside, hugging herself. He smiled at her back and leaned against the doorjamb.

'Here, your room.' She turned to look at him and smiled gratefully, but he saw that her eyes were watering and she was on the brink of tears. He handed her the duffel bag he'd taken from her house. 'And your stuff, I'll leave you to get unpacked for a bit, okay?' She nodded, pulling her sleeves down over her hands again. She looked completely washed out, a shadow of who she was in the office.

'Thank you John.' He nodded and smiled again before closing the door and walking into the kitchen. Damn he needed a drink. He had just poured himself a glass of water from the bottle in the fridge when there was a tap on the door.

'Adile.' He muttered as he opened it, staring at the Turkish woman with an expression of distaste firmly planted on his face.

'Nice to see you too, Brendan. Or are you John? Anyway, I see you have your… friend… with you so I won't trouble you too much. I just want you to know that daddy isn't happy with you, isn't very happy with you at all. Goodbye… John.' She turned on her heel and was down the stairs before he could chase after her.

'I am in serious shit…' He muttered, closing the door and locking it so that there was no way even someone with the key could get in. The encounter with Adile had left him shaken and he didn't want Martha to see him like that. He went back into the kitchen and took another sip of water, the icy cold soothing his nerves.

'John?' Martha's voice pierced his consciousness and he turned towards her, putting the glass back down on the side. 'I was just wondering… did you bring my make up from my house?' She looked at him and he felt a rush of emotions in his chest.

'No, I didn't.' She was about to ask why when he continued. 'Because you don't need it. You're beautiful without it Martha, and that's another thing I'm going to make you believe.' He saw the faintest of pink blushes in her cheeks and felt his heart jump.

'Thank you.' Her voice was a whisper and she turned and fled back into her room.

**That Evening…**

'Martha? What do you want to eat? I can't cook so I was thinking of ordering out something but…' Martha came into the kitchen, donning another shapeless jumper and the faded jeans she had been wearing earlier. The thing was, she had a figure, but he didn't understand why she felt like she had to hide herself under the clothes she wore.

'Whatever, I'm not worried.' She folded her arms and leaned back against the counter. John just watched her; years undercover had taught him how to read body language and he knew she was being cautious, tentative.

'Chinese?' He dug around in the drawers, his back to her, feeling her eyes on him the whole time.

'Sure.' One-word answers. That was bad. He handed her the menu, his fingers only just brushing hers but her reaction was to jerk her hand away and tug her sleeves even further over her hands. 'Thanks.' He watched her over his wine glass and observed how troubled she looked, how guarded her body language was. She handed him back the menu, having circled what she wanted. It was the smallest dish and he looked away, knowing how stupidly thin she was anyway. But today he wouldn't push her. He tapped the number into his phone and relayed the information; being told it would be at least fifteen minutes before he received it.

'Okay, thanks.' He slid his phone shut and deposited it in his pocket. 'Drink?' Martha looked up at him holding a wine glass a smiled a faint smile.

'Please.' He poured out some red wine, struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu from when he was at hers the day she got kidnapped. She took it from him and took a delicate sip, a few strands of her burnt auburn hair falling over her face. She raised her other hand, displaying the healing wounds for a moment, and pushed them behind her ear. Bloom reached out his hand and grabbed her around the wrist, tilting it gently so that he could see the full extent of the damage.

'Jesus…' She pulled her wrist back but he had it held in a firm grip. 'Let me see.' She stopped pulling against him and let him see, felt his fingertips trace them tenderly. Tears sprung in her eyes as he watched, and he released her hand, moving back to pick up his wine glass and take a sip from it. 'Where else?' She didn't answer and he moved towards her, hurt to see that she flinched back away from him, hugging herself.

'John…' There was a knock on the door and he walked away, casting a glance over his shoulder at her, a hollow feeling in his chest.

'Thanks.' He handed the deliveryman a crumpled ten-pound note. 'Keep the change.' He turned back to Martha and silently handed her a box of noodles that was probably half the size of his. She looked up at him under her dark lashes.

'Thanks.' He touched her shoulder.

'It's okay.' They ate in silence, Bloom afraid of what would happen if he even tried to make conversation. They must have sat in silence for an hour at least, before he stood up and took her empty box to the kitchen and threw it in the bin.

'Goodnight John.' She smiled at him and turned away. He made an impulse decision and hugged her, her head resting on his shoulder reflexively.

'Night Martha.'

**I want a hug from him! Anyway, review pleeaaaaaaaase? **

**(feed my plot bunnies!)  
**


	9. Chapter 9

**Oh I am mean! Nightmares, memories, diaries and friendliness. Okay, the first three are bad, the last one (at the end :D) are good. I have asked my good friend Deana (guilt trips for when she reads) to read this... and as usual Afroza-IX and XTimeGirlX (: When Dodgy comes back she gets a shoutout too! (And I so just gave her a shoutout anyway) Please like this chapter, it's probably the only one that will be at a reasonable time from now on. (Hey, being an insomniac has its benefits)**

Martha pulled back first, her heartbeat racing in her chest and suddenly her rational shields snapped down. She could not allow her emotions to rule her any more so she shut down completely. She dithered in front of him, wanting nothing more than to fall back into his arms and cry her heart out on his shoulder, cry so that he listened to how she felt. But she didn't; instead, she turned and walked briskly into her room, tears pouring down her face as if she were standing in a rainfall. She reached her room and shut the door, leaning her back against it and sliding down, resting her forehead against her knees. She wrapped her arms around her legs so that she was in an upright foetal position. There was a slight tap on the door and she jolted.

'Martha? Are you alright?' She was aware that she had made a noise when she had leaned against the door and she stifled a sigh.

'I'm fine. Goodnight.' Tears were pouring ever faster down her face and she pressed all her weight (which wasn't much) against the door as he pushed the handle down. 'Shouldn't you knock first? I might be changing.' There was silence on the other side.

'Sorry.' He walked away; she could hear his footsteps going down the short corridor and into the adjoining room. Her eyes closed fractionally and she wiped her tears away with her sleeves, hoping that this would be the last time she would cry. She crawled to the bed and changed into the thin pyjamas John had taken from her room in her own house and curled up on the covers. She lifted her diary from under the pillow where she had placed it earlier and looked it over, fingers tracing the thin, spidery handwriting on the inside cover. It was from her mother on the last year of her life, when the cancer had spread through her body and she could barely breathe on her own. She had handed it to Martha on her last day in the hospital, the leather book bound with a coil of gold ribbon. Martha had taken it, her eyes springing with tears and her mother had closed her hands over Martha's, her eyes closing. Then there was a long beep as the heart monitor flat lined. Tears sprang in her eyes as she ran from the room to her boyfriend at the time. She shook her head, clearing the muzzy fog of memories in her brain and looking at the plain white wall in front of her. She picked up the biro she'd been writing with and started scribbling furiously on the page.

_John read my diary. He said he didn't but he did. There are some marks on the pages from tears that aren't mine. He had no right but at the same time I'm not angry with him. I know I should but I'm not, I don't blame him even though it's irrational not to. I should have been honest with him, told him the truth from day one… maybe this would have never happened if I had. He really cares and the hardest part for me is understanding why and believing he does. I haven't had anyone for years, not since mum died… A tear dropped onto the page and she wiped it away with her fingers. I need someone like him to be my friend, but this stupid attraction for him is not going away which is, I guess, why I'm so closed and cautious around him. I want to stay in control around him; I don't want him to see me cry even though he already has. I don't want him to see me being pathetic. I'm his boss for Christ's sakes. It could have been anyone else who found me… but it was him. I guess he cares. I don't know what to believe though. Damn it… I just want answers. Maybe find out about him too, find out what makes John Bloom (if that is his real name) tick._

_Sometimes though… I just wish my head and heart would agree with each other._

She closed her diary and sighed, tucking it under her pillow and laying down, covering herself with the thick duvet. Her insomnia wasn't troubling her that night, so she fell asleep quickly.

_She was dreaming, but it was so vivid, so real. She was floating in the open ocean, the salty water rising up and covering her as she tried to stay above the water. Her hands were numb and the clothes she was wearing were dragging her under, despite her desperate efforts to keep her head in the air. Something brushed past her leg and her nerves instantly snapped, her pulse sprinting and her senses heightening. She tried to look around but the constant battering of water was pulling her further down into the icy, inky water. Something tugged at her foot this time and she ducked under the water, terrified of what she would see. There was nothing, but when she surfaced she saw something that made her blood freeze. A fin. The night was still. The silvery stars bright in the sky. Somewhere, in this serene landscape, she was going to die. The fin disappeared underwater and something tugged at her foot, this time dragging her under. She tried to scream but water rushed in. She tried again with what remained of her breath._

_Screaming…_

Then Bloom's hands were on her, and her arms were around his neck, breathing heavily, taking comfort in his familiar scent.

'Shh… Martha it's okay, I'm here, shh…' He soothed her, stroking her sweaty hair with his hand and holding her as she shook. 'Shh…' She let herself, just for once, let her guard down and kept a hold of him, her entire body trembling. 'It was just a nightmare, you're okay.' He told her, as if he were soothing a young child.

'I was so scared.' She whispered, resting her head on his shoulder and letting him hold her steady. 'It was so scary…' He was holding her tight and she slowly took her arms away from his neck, instead placing them around him. After a few minutes, the reality of what they were doing seemed to sink in and they both let go, Martha curling up in a ball on the bed.

'You gonna be alright?' She nodded and he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. 'Goodnight Martha.'

'Yeah.' She said, her voice shaking as he left. 'Night John.'

**Review and feed the plot bunnies... Just a lot of good old fluff here xD Please enjoy (:**


	10. Chapter 10

**Another from John's point of view... I know it's getting monotonous with constantly going Martha/John but I did try to write one from Anthony's point of view, got thirteenn lines and was finished... sorry guys (: Okay, so I'm back at school now so less updates than before but I'll be trying :D The growing romance I'm writing is surprising me how easily it's appearing on my laptop screen xD Massive thanks to Afroza-IX, XTimeGirlX and Dodgy as usual.**

John sat opposite Martha, keeping his eyes fixed on the wall behind her, memories of her clinging hands still fresh in his mind.

'You okay this morning?' She looked up, slatey eyes wide and the purple bruise-like circles under her eyes showing more on her gaunt face than before. It was obvious how little she'd slept last night, and John felt a stab of sympathy for her in his heart.

'I've been better to be honest.' She smiled thinly, pushing a lock of hair out of her face with a hand that was trembling visibly. He reached out and touched her wrist.

'I'm sorry. What… what did you…' He trailed off, quite unable to finish, unable to think of a way to phrase what he was trying to say. She looked straight at him.

'I was drowning because a shark pulled me under the water. I'm absolutely, completely petrified of sharks and I always have been, and now I think I always will.' Bloom could see the sadness in her eyes and noticed that she was being more guarded with her movements, as if she was in pain.

'Martha? What did you do to your stomach?' His eyes were on her and she shrunk back, and as he watched she seemed to hide inside herself and turned her eyes away. She closed her eyes and her hands sought out each other and linked on the tabletop. Bloom stared at her, his eyes boring into her as she shifted uncomfortably. 'Martha, talk to me.' She shook her head and closed her eyes, keeping her body rigid and still, Bloom staring at her still, assuming her pose. 'Please, I'm your friend.'

'Why do you care?' She asked bitterly, the bitterness surprising Bloom.

'Because… because I promised I'd help you.' She opened her eyes, as if appraising him, her knuckles white from the force she was exerting on her own hands. He touched her hand gently, his fingers barely trailing along the smooth skin. She shivered and sat up straighter, keeping her eyes trained on him.

'Bloom I… I don't know what to say.' She was an emotional wreck, completely and truly, hardly able to stop crying for long periods of time. 'I just…' Bloom could see the pain and torment behind her fake smile and he stroked her hand gently. 'I don't…' She began again, her voice faltering and dying. Bloom stroked her cheek gently.

'You don't have to tell me, Martha. All you have to do is show me.' She shook her head; not crying but close to tears. 'It's okay.' Bloom took his hand away from her cheek and laid it on the table where Martha's eyes were. She tremulously reached out her hand and touched his, taking comfort in it. 'Martha?' She shook her head.

'John I can't… I don't know what to do.' Bloom looked at her, his eyes widening slightly. She dropped her gaze once again to the floor and he sighed.

'What do you mean? Just show me what happened.' Martha took her hand off of his and touched the hem of her jumper, her eyes seeking his as if asking permission for it. He nodded and brushed the stray hairs from off of her face, the tenderness in his eyes almost making her blush. He laughed softly at her blushing features and she smiled, almost embarrassedly. 'It's okay. You can trust me.'

Once again she looked into his eyes and Bloom felt his heart rise in his chest in anticipation. She pulled them hem of her jumper up and displayed the smooth skin of her stomach. The white flesh was striped with red marks; sore looking red cuts that made Bloom's stomach roil in disgust. _How could anyone do that to themselves?_ He smothered that thought and reached out to touch the cuts, but Martha flinched away before he could. 'Sorry…' She shook her head, her whole body trembling.

'No, no I am. I shouldn't have had to do that. I just… it takes my mind of things.' Bloom nodded sympathetically, but inside his mind was reeling from what he had just seen. When he was younger the depressed scene was the new fashion statement, self-harming was something to do and look cool. But this? This was pure hatred of oneself. Bloom found himself wanting to hold Martha and never let her go.

'I get why… but… doesn't it hurt?' It was a stupid question and Bloom knew it, but he had to know, had to get inside Martha's head and understand.

'The pain is almost like a distraction for me. It's an addiction of the worst kind but… it's also a release.' She was speaking earnestly and Bloom found himself understanding, even though he didn't want to.

'I get it but at the same time… I don't.' She touched his hand gently and he felt a rush of emotion through his entire body; the most powerful being compassion.

'You don't have to get it. It's me. It's always been me. I just… I just feel like I'm the only one that knows what this feels like. Depression it's… it's not something I'm proud of. In fact it's the opposite. I'm ashamed of how I feel. I'm ashamed to be depressed because I know what it does to me. I know that I hurt myself when I'm depressed even if I don't want to because the pain is addictive.' Bloom thought she sounded sadistic, but he didn't voice his thoughts, feeling regular stabs of sympathy for her in time with his heartbeat.

Usually he wasn't a person likely to hug you or show any signs of caring at all. But now, with Martha sitting so defeated and full of sadness in front of him, the only thing in the world he wanted to do in that second was to wrap her in his arms and never, ever let her go. Martha looked so defeated and sad, as if the weight of the entire world rested on her shoulders and she would crumple at any given moment. Frankly, he was surprised she had lasted this long.

'Martha…? I'm sorry it happened to you. I'm sorry you feel this way, so, so sorry.' She shrugged, hiding her face with her hair. Bloom brushed it back. 'Look at me.' She raised her beautiful eyes to his, the flicker of hope that had once shone there long since dead. 'It's okay. You'll be okay.' He smiled at her, an honest, true smile. She looked away as Bloom placed his hands flat on the table. He sat in silence for a moment, his eyes committing every move she made to memory. After a few minutes, she turned to face him again, her hands seeking his across the tabletop, her eyes cast downwards.

'I want to believe you.'

**Martha sounds like me xD (oh wait, that's bad...) review pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase?**


	11. Chapter 11

**Okay slower update this time and no new one until Saturday or Sunday because I'm at a friend's house tomorrow :D Martha will be leaving Bloom's house at some point because I have the entire ending planned out but I don't know how to string the story out and get there in the longest time possible. Okay for the dream interpretation stuff I found it online so all credit to the website who created it and I do not own it. Please enjoy this (it took me a couple days to get through it)**

Martha sat on top of the toilet, her shirt lying on the floor by her feet as her fingers gingerly trailed along the red score marks on her stomach, the slightest pressure making her squeak in pain. She took the cotton ball she'd been using to clean them and dabbed gently at the most recent one, screwing her face up in pain. The soft cotton ball was damp and now tinged ever so slightly with red, the antiseptic stinging against her skin and causing her to breathe in heavily, closing her eyes. There was a gentle tap on the panelled wood of the door and she looked up, eyes streaming.

'Martha? Are you okay in there?' She gritted her teeth and called out to him.

'I'm fine. Just… making sure I don't get an infection.' Martha dabbed again and took in a deep breath through her teeth, a slight whistling sound escaping through her teeth. 'John?' There was a silence on the other side of the door.

'Yeah… sorry I'm going to go out. Don't do anything I wouldn't.' Martha sighed.

'That gives me a huge scope, John.' She heard his quiet chuckle and then his footsteps leading away. She missed him already. Which was kind of sad especially because she was his boss and he was just her friend. _Yeah… right…_ the little voice inside her head whispered miserably. _You keep telling yourself that_. She was glad she finally had a friend that cared about her, even though he had been a co-worker. She reached for the shower and turned the water on, steam rising and coiling in small puffy clouds around her. She folded her clothes and left them on the small radiator as she stepped into the deluge of hot water. She closed the small glass doors and let the water drench her, barely feeling the sting of heat.

The water on her cuts felt like acid on them and she winced, but became used to the sensation before too long. She leaned her head against the ceramic white tiles, the cool and hot battling it out over her body. She slid down the wall with a sigh and drew her knees up to her chest and embraced them, resting her forehead against her legs. The water kept beating down on her and it was only when she had finished washing and wiping the make up that had run from off her face that she sat there, just letting the warm droplets roll over her hunched figure. Her burnt auburn hair turned a dull mousy brown as the water soaked it through. She ran her fingers through her conditioned hair, the length surprising her as it trailed around her fingers in loose coils. The water started to go cold and she shut it off, the steamy atmosphere hiding the person she detested from herself. Her eyes drifted over to the towel rail and she reached out a hand to delicately pluck a soft white towel from there. She dipped her head so that she wouldn't have to see her reflection in the misted up mirror, see the body she detested so. She dried herself off and pulled on her long skirt and long sleeved white blouse, running her fingers through her damp hair in an effort to make it seem dryer. It failed miserably. She opened the bathroom door and pushed it open, poking her head around the door with slight misgivings.

'John… are you back yet?' There was no answer in the silent flat and she closed the bathroom door again, leaning against the wood as the silence loomed over her. She hated being alone nowadays; she hated the fact that she was so pathetic as well. Another thing she hated was being in someone else's house alone; she felt like she was intruding in their space and it was something she felt uncomfortable doing. She walked into the room that was hers for the moment and lay back on the small single bed, her knees drawn up to her chest. She reached for her phone and tapped in a message to John, not daring to send it.

John I… I wish I knew how to respond to you. I… wish I wasn't so pathetic.

She left her phone on the bed and then turned it off, a small message popping up on the screen and telling her that it was saved to drafts. She closed her eyes and lay on her side, a couple of stray tears leaking from behind her lids. She had googled her dream meanings and knew exactly what they meant.

_Shark: Feeling angry with yourself or others_

_Scream: You are expressing an emotion that has been bottled up for too long_

_Sea: If you are lost at sea then you are unsure about your emotions for one person_

_Stars: Represent fate and luck_

_Night: Dreaming of night signifies obstacles in achieving your goals_

_Drowning: Drowning signifies you can no longer hide you feelings about a certain situation_

She sighed and folded the piece of paper she had printed and tucked it into her diary, the embossed leather cover soft under her trailing fingers. She gently wiped away the tears and smiled to herself, wondering when John would come back. As if she'd summoned him with her thoughts, the door opened and he called out.

'I'm back. Martha?' She became suddenly aware that she was crying silently, her face awash with salty rivers and she didn't know why. He tapped on her door and she raised her head as he stepped inside, his leather jacket and fitted white t-shirt hugging his trim frame. The tight denim of his jeans was also not helping the rush of desire deep in her stomach that was bubbling over into her mind and causing her heart to skip beats. He sank onto the bed next to her and placed his arm around her shoulders gingerly, and when she didn't resist, he placed her head on his lap and stroked her hair gently, the auburn strands soft against his rough fingers. She curled up tighter so that she was almost completely on his lap and let him soothe her as she trembled and shook, the warmth from his lap and chest slowly leeching into her frigid body.

'Oh Martha…' He sighed, keeping her held gently on her lap with the lightest of touches. She rearranged herself so that her head was resting against his chest and she was technically sat on his lap, her arms around his neck. Her whole body was heaving with quiet sobs and he stroked small circles in her back with his hand. 'It'll be okay Martha… you'll be okay.' He whispered sweet nothings into her hair and squeezed her gently. 'It'll be okay…'

**I completely love how I made that dream up and how the meanings fit so well xD **

**Reviewsies make me sooooooooooo happy :D**

**Erin x x **

**(Let me know if you wanna get in touch for spoilers and possible extracts :D)  
**


	12. Chapter 12

**Jartha fluff dotted randomly all around. I decided Adile had to be important somewhere and that resulted in me hurting Bloom D: (I'm sorry!) Massive love to anyone who reads this, especially as always Afroza-IX and Dodgy, you guys are awesome. Please enjoy this a lot...**

John kept her held tightly in his arms, his lips brushing the top of her head as he spoke, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. It was only when her breathing slowed that he realized how tired of it all she was and he shifted slightly so that she was more comfortable, her head completely resting on his shoulders and his arms supporting her. Her eyes were ringed with a deep purple that was so dark it was almost black and at one point she shifted so that her arm was on her shoulder, slowly trailing along his collarbone and his neck. The feeling made him shiver and his mind wondered what it would feel like if it wasn't her hand but her lips.

Her shook his head, annoyed at himself for thinking that about her, about the vulnerable woman lying in front of him. She stirred in her sleep and her lips parted slightly, her skin flushed slightly. It seemed to be the first time she had slept properly in a while and he felt strangely honoured at being the one to make her feel better. He felt a stirring of desire deep inside his chest and he slid her sleeping form onto the bed before padding slowly towards the kitchen. He reached the kitchen and lifted a glass from the cupboard, filling it to the brim with clear water. He leaned his back against the work surface and took a deep draught of the icy beverage, rolling the glass against his forehead with a shaking hand. There was another tap on the door and he growled, the hair on the back of his neck standing to attention.

'If that's Adile again…' He walked to the door and wrenched it open, his eyes flashing with anger at Tessa who was standing on his doorstep.

'John? Where's Martha?' She was shorter than him but still carried an air of menace about her slim form and loom found himself recoiling slightly.

'She's… she's… asleep.' He finished lamely, walking back into his kitchen and taking another sip from his glass, trying to calm his jittering nerves.

'Why is she here, John? Why isn't she at home?' Tessa was furious and looked very much like she wanted to hit Bloom when she got closer to him. 'Well?'

'She needed somewhere to stay where she couldn't be hurt by herself or anyone. She was so distressed in that hospital she could barely cope. I had to take her in, Tessa, believe me I did.' Tessa stared at him and then backed down, her hackles slowly subsiding in the few moments she had been ready to kill him.

'Ok. John, we need to talk though. Come for a walk with me.' Bloom looked around and then sighed in defeat, rolling his eyes in her direction. 'Please?'

'Okay… let me just… leave Martha a note.' Tessa nodded sharply as Bloom dug around in his drawers for a pen and a scrap of notepaper, scrawling a quick note.

_Martha, gone out with Tessa. Apparently we 'need to talk'. I'll be back soon._

He wanted sincerely to add 'I love you' on the end but decided against it, his pen refusing to move. He walked into her room and gently placed it on her bedside table, his hand lingering on the varnished wood as he watched her sleep. He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead with his lips, observing the slight change in her breathing and the way she rolled over slightly, as if trying to get to him.

'See you later.' He turned and walked quietly out, closing the door delicately with a soft click on his way out. 'Okay Tessa, you've got me. What do you want?' She smiled at him and then walked to his front door, dithering by it as he shrugged his tight leather jacket on over the white t-shirt that showed his sculpted chest.

'As I said, we need to talk about Martha and why you're spending so much time with her.' He looked incredulously at her and opened the door, both of them clattering down the stairs to the lower floors and into the weak sunlight outside.

'Tessa, she's my friend!' Tessa folded his arms and glared disapprovingly at him; his eyes were half closed and he turned back to face her, running a hand through his hair. 'She's my friend and she reached out for me. She_ needed_ me when everyone turned her away. I was there for her and you know what? I care about her.' Tessa clicked her tongue and walked ahead of him, his eyes in the back of her neck with a grim smile. 'Tessa you have to believe me. I have no ulterior motives.'

'Yes. Because I believe you. John I've seen the way you look at her and I've seen the CCTV footage. I know what's going on between you two.' John spun around.

'Nothing's been going on between us, Tessa. Believe me.' He looked sincerely into her eyes, no trace of deceit in his own. Tessa turned and faced him.

'So why is she in your flat? Why isn't she on her own, or, even better, with a woman friend? I.e. me.' Bloom stared incredulously at her, his eyes flashing.

'Fine. She can if she wants. I took her in because I asked and she accepted that offer. She can't cope on her own and if she was with you then fine. You can take her in if you want. But I'll tell you one thing, she needed me; not someone who works with her or someone she would be embarrassed to talk to in work because of that. She needs me.' Tessa opened her mouth sadly and was about to say something when the shot rang out. Bloom dropped to his knees with blood pouring from his arm, his fingers struggling to control the rush. Tessa knelt beside him and applied pressure as hard as she could despite his constant swearing.

'Bloom I know this hurts but it's for the better. Just stay still we need to get you undercover so that they can't hurt you any more. Just breathe.' Bloom swore continuously under his breath and Tessa touched his arm gently. 'Come on Bloom.' Bloom hissed in pain as the blood rolled over his fingers in a warm sticky liquid that instantly stained his clothes and hands. Tessa grabbed his other arm and lifted him to his feet, pulling him into a shop doorway behind a parked van. He scrabbled in his pocket for his phone but Tessa beat him to it and was already deep in conversation with the emergency services operator. There seemed to be a lot of blood and his sight was wavering at the edges like he was underwater. 'Bloom? Stay with me now okay?' He nodded, the only sensation he could feel was the one on his hand where the essence of his life was spilling and staining the pavement a deep scarlet.

'Oh shit Tessa. What about Martha?' She didn't grasp what he was saying and he just wanted to shout _Adile's after her! _His heartbeat faltered and he pressed down even tighter on the gush, biting down hard on his lip as Tessa sat beside him on the cold, unforgiving concrete.

**Sorry fangirls D: but you know, the story gets better after this. More fluff and fluff and fluff galore.**

**Reviews make me happy and make me update faster**

**Love youuuu**

**Erin  
**


	13. Chapter 13

**Yay I made friends with someone's parent! (first time EVER) And I finished this because she really boosted my confidence. I need to post more often but mock GCSE year has begun and year ten is upon me. Not a lot of homework but mock exams *freaks out* R.S. is rapidly becoming one of my best subjects and it's scary. But anyway, on with the fanfiction. Thanks as always to Dodgy, Afroza-IX (read her story, it's called Depression and it's AMAZING) and XTimeGirlX**

Martha stirred, her hand reaching out for Bloom's hand only to find cold sheets and a lack of warm-blooded man. She reached up and stretched, her hair falling into her eyes the way a fringe would and she wiped a hand over her face. There was pale sunlight still streaming through the slightly open curtains and she blinked as it seared across her eyeballs. A small piece of paper was on the desk and she reached for it clumsily, her mind still sleep-addled. She brought it slowly up to eye level and read it through swiftly, her brow creasing and her mind wandering.

_Martha, gone out with Tessa. Apparently we 'need to talk'. I'll be back soon._

Martha sighed and stretched, placing the paper back down on the chest of drawers with a small non-committal noise. She left her phone on the side and sidled into the kitchen, all her senses stretched and nerves taught. She took a sip from a can of coke that was in the fridge and looked at the floor, her eyes tracing the pattern of the floor tiles. There was a silence in the flat and she could hear her heartbeat racing in her chest, the blood pulsing in her throat. She didn't know why she was so scared. There was a quiet bleep from her bedroom and she turned, walking briskly back to the room and tugging her knee high boots up over her tights. She entered the quiet, dark room and picked up the small piece of machinery, unlocking it and quickly scanning the lines of text that made her blood freeze in her veins.

_John's in hospital. Martha he's asking for you. GET. HERE._

Martha felt a slow flush rise in her cheeks and grabbed her phone and the spare pair of keys from the side, leaving in a whirlwind of grey cotton and a pencil skirt. Her plain, pale yellow shirt was covered in a light patterned jumper that went down to mid thigh and the pencil skirt reached to just below her knees. The grey tights and boots she was wearing complemented her outfit perfectly, but now that she was running a small ladder was developing on her upper thigh and her hair was flyaway. She ran all the way to the hospital, a stitch sawing in her side and reached the desk where Tessa was waiting anxiously, her hands slightly tinged red with blood.

'What happened, Tessa.' Martha's eyes were wide and fearful and Tessa looked at her, the t-shirt she was wearing rumpled and with a small bloodstain at the bottom.

'We were talking and then… then the shot rang out and his shoulder was pouring blood. I… I was arguing with him and it all just happened so fast… Martha I…' Martha shook her head and wiped her face with a trembling hand.

'Is he okay?' Tessa smiled and touched Martha's hand. Martha looked perplexed.

'He'll be okay. The hospital staff are fixing him up now.' Martha stared in the direction of A&E, her hands in the pockets of her jumper and her ankles crossed in a stance of protection, keeping her back leaned against the reception desk. John came through the door, his arm in a bulky bandage and a sheepish smile on his face; Martha felt her own relax in relief that he was safe. He's okay. The voice in her mind rejoiced but her rational mind kept a lid on her happiness.

'John?' He smiled as he got close to them, reeking of antiseptic and looking a little out of it. Martha put her arms around him and her placed his head on her shoulder, for the first time she felt like the strong person. 'Oh God John I thought you were hurt so bad. I was so worried.' She whispered in his ear, resting her cheek against his as he tightened his grip. She could almost feel the pain in him as he tightened his grip around her and she felt her eyes well up. 'I was so scared.'

'I'm okay, Martha.' He felt the corner of his mouth lift up in a smile and she breathed in the scent that was so perfectly him, so inexplicable to describe. It was just Bloom. Perfectly and painfully him. There was a huge stirring of desire and all she did was squeeze his arms tighter so that she could hardly feel her fingertips due to the pressure she was exerting. He gently brushed her back with his fingers and smiled, his cheek once again rising next to hers.

'I know… but I was so worried about you.' His eyes bored into hers and he held her out at arms length, her eyes glistening with tears and her face raising a flush.

'I'm fine Martha. It's you I'm worried about.' They both turned, remembered suddenly that Tessa was there. She wasn't. Bloom touched her cheek with his fingers whilst his other hand took hers and his thumb traced the scars. They were so close and all she wanted to do was kiss him but knew that now was neither the time nor the place for any romantic ideas. His hands were warm and soft against her skin and she tried to push the desire away, tried to block the flood of emotions behind the floodgates. Bloom pushed himself away suddenly, his arm hanging limp by his side and Martha touched the bloody bandage that covered stitches and a thin trickle of blood that ran down his bicep.

'Why were you worried about me?' She asked him, the words only just sinking into her battered and traumatized mind.

'Adile did this to me, Martha. I don't know what she's going to do to you.' Martha just touched his hand and smiled.

'I think she wanted to hurt you. I think I'll be all right.' Bloom touched her cheek gingerly with the fingers of one hand and pushed a small flyaway strand of hair out of her face, resting his fingers on her neck for a few moments longer than needed. She wanted him to hold her and never let her go, to love her and never leave her. But not now. Not even close to now. She just waited for him to move his hand and turned her gaze to the floor so that their eyes never made contact. Bloom touched her hand and they both walked out together, Bloom with his hand on the small of Martha's back and Martha feeling lines of fiery heat radiate from where he was touching her.

**Adile may come back but I really doubt it. Cute fluffiness everywhere. As I said, I have the ending but I need to get there first! *dies* Please review it makes me so happy!**

**Love for everyone who reviews (DEANA PLEAAAAAAAAAAAAASE!)**

**Erin x x x  
**


	14. Chapter 14

**More awesome fluffiness in this chapter and some stuff that's a little angsty but still no _proper _kiss. Sorry guys. Is it coming... well... maybe ;P Depends if I can write the ending i want to (: Okay, massive thanks to Afroza-IX, XTimeGirlX, Dodgy and Deana for being awwesommme constant reviewers! **

Bloom stopped suddenly, his hand flying up to touch his arm with a grimace and Martha turned to look at him, her eyes wide as his face creased in pain.

'Are you okay?' He smiled and looked at her, his eyes flashing with pain and fear at the twinges in his stitches as he moved his arm. 'John?' He looked back at her and she smiled reassuringly, if weakly in his direction.

'Yeah… yeah it just hurts a little but it's to be expected right?' He looked a little lost, despite Martha knowing for a fact that he'd been shot before in the side, it was on his record. 'I'm okay, Martha.' She stepped back and critically observed him in profile, the curl of hair that flicked over his face almost enough to make her reach up and… and… well, what? John didn't know, but he could see in her eyes that she wanted to do something, but before he could try to analyse it further it was gone and the tired look had replaced it. They had started walking by then but Bloom stopped for a second and dipped down to place a kiss gingerly on her forehead. Martha blushed, the soft colour giving life to her haunted face and he turned his eyes away as she slipped her hand in his, the slight pressure making him shudder slightly. Martha squeezed his hand as he shuddered, probably hoping to warm him. He was already way too warm and it was getting uncomfortable, especially now he was shaking and sweating slightly.

'John?' He shifted slightly, the sweat running down his back and his neck, a distinctly uncomfortable feeling in the prickly t-shirt he was wearing.

'I'm just hot.' She smiled a little and then he shivered slightly, the slight wind cooling the sweat on his arms. He touched her arm and then turned away. 'Martha I'm scared.' She looked at him, shielding her eyes with her hands from the harsh sunlight that sparkled in the corner of her eyes. She quirked an eyebrow to the point where it would be in danger of moving off of her face and into her hair.

'What do you mean scared?' Bloom shuffled his feet and sighed, tipping his head back as Martha stepped back, leaning her body against the wall of the hospital close to where she was parked. Bloom sighed softly and touched her arm, closing his hand a little too tight over the smooth skin of the top of it.

'Adile did this to me. Adile hurt me and I think she's going to hurt you.' She made to talk but he placed his finger over her lips. 'No, Martha please. Listen. You don't know her like I do and she will do anything to get back at me because I hurt her. If you get hurt it'll be my fault. Martha I can't let anything happen to you, I really can't because it would kill me; honestly Martha if she hurt you I… I'd know it was my fault and I would be eaten alive by the guilt.' Martha paused, her mouth hanging slightly open at his sudden outburst and he looked away, not feeling Martha's hand scrabbling for his. He felt her nails digging into his skin for a while and smiled a little to himself.

'I'll be okay, John.' He shook his head sadly and then pulled his hand from hers with a slight jerk that sent a short spike of pain across the new wound on his arm.

'You can't know that.' He gently touched her smooth hair and stroked it, his fingers entwining with the rich strands. 'You can't know that… you just can't.' She shook her hair out of his reach and traced the slight wrinkles on his hands with her fingers.

'If she wanted to hurt me she would have done it by now. Calm down.' But John couldn't calm down, his blood was racing in his veins and his heart was pounding in his ears. He was scared for Martha. Martha dropped her hand to her side; suddenly shying away from the physical contact she'd been craving from him for a while.

'I can't. I can't… I really, _really_ can't. Martha if they hurt you I'll never forgive myself because you're my friend and I'll have let you down… Martha I _can't_…' His voice trailed off and there was silence save for the quiet rush of cars in the car park behind them. John pressed his forehead to hers and sighed, his breathing still hitched and his heart still pounding loud enough for the world to hear. 'I'm scared for you.' He breathed, his eyes closed as he drew in the scent of her and kept it in his mind, waiting until she drew away. She didn't. She kept her forehead to his and the sun, slowly sinking beyond the hospital walls, cast them into silhouette that was almost perfect. Her arms went over his shoulders and gingerly stroked the soft bandage, taking her hand away when he flinched involuntarily.

'I'm gonna be okay.' She whispered, softly teasing a curl around her fingers and smiled to herself as he placed his hands on her waist. They stayed like that for a moment before Martha pulled back, her rational mind snapping back over and hiding her emotional, fragile side. 'John I… I want to go back to mine. I'll be okay. You don't have to worry.' He looked down at her and closed his eyes for a moment as she tilted her head towards him.

'I will worry, every day.' She smiled and hugged him gently, her face pressed into his shoulder as he gingerly stroked the soft jumper that covered her shoulders.

'I'll have police around me every day John. I should be okay.' He sighed.

'Yeah… the whole "should be okay" isn't doing it for me.' His fingers sketched the quotation marks in the air and she smiled at his worried expression before she stepped away, lowering her eyes to the tarmac at her feet.

'Don't worry. I'll be fine and when you heal up I'll get you your job back and then you can protect me again.' Bloom shook his head sadly and smiled at her.

'That's if I want my job back.' She looked up and then he let out a soft laugh. 'I want my job back.' His face went serious and then she smiled, a small tinkling laugh escaping her slightly parted lips. He looked down at her. 'So… do you want some help packing your stuff up or are you okay on your own because I think I need to get some sleep when I get back.' She lowered her eyelids and stared at the floor with a burning rush of colour flooding into her cheeks. 'Martha? Am I being tactless?'

'No, no it's fine. When we get back you go to bed and I'll go. I'll get your job back and see you soon okay?' She smiled at him, but the laughter had left her face.

'Thanks, Martha.' He placed an arm around her as they walked to the flat.

**Reviews make me _soooo _happy and keep me alive and not being depressed. Massive thanks to my not-counsellor-but-who-cares-anyway for being amazing (:**


	15. Chapter 15

**Cuteness sweetness and some angstyness. Thought I should forewarn you, some intense fluffy goodness and lightness coming in the next few chapters and I know it's getting all repetitive John/Martha but it has a reason.**

**I hope you enjoy it :D  
**

John had crashed out on the sofa when Martha was leaving and she slung her bag over one shoulder, holding her journal in one hand. His eyes were closed but his eyelids flickered and his skin was flushed lightly with a dull pink shade. She leaned over and kissed his forehead gently, her heart breaking quietly as she let herself out of the house and closed the door behind her with no way of getting back in.

'Goodbye, John.' She whispered, a single tear glistening on her cheek and her back against the black painted door that was peeling in several places. She took a single look back at the door and then bolted down the stairs with reckless abandon, her eyes filled with tears for not rational reason. She reached the pavement and blinked in the sunlight as she headed back towards her house, dragging her feet on the tarmac and hoping against hope that he would come after her. But he was asleep and mending the way she had needed to. And now she was okay, well, she wasn't going to try and kill herself again and she certainly would never, ever touch vodka or any related products for a long time. She reached her house and slid her key into the lock with a trembling hand, the door sticking the way it always did when she pushed it open. The plain white carpet was littered with a thin layer of dust that puffed slightly as she took a step.

It had only been three days but everything seemed so old and lonely and broken, everything was so cold. She touched the door with her fingers and kept walking into her kitchen, the empty wine glass from three days ago still left on the side with a sticky red circle on the bottom. She filled the sink with warm water and dipped her hands into it, rubbing the glass with her fingers that emitted a small squealing sound. Foam frothed up over her hands and her arms and she half-heartedly blew them away, placing the soapy glass on the draining board. She closed her eyes and dried her hands with a small towel in black and wiped her forehead with her fingers. Her eyes closed and she dragged herself up the stairs, flinging herself down on her black quilted bed in her white room and buried her head under the duvet. Her eyes were rapidly filling with tears because she missed having someone she could turn to in the other room, someone to fight away her fears in her nightmares.

_John… where do I start. I miss you already. I miss the man you are and how much you care for me. I'm sorry for being so pathetic and useless and afraid and for ruining your life these past few days. Journal, John, you're one and the same._

_So… from now on, I'm never going to write here again._

_Martha, once and for the last time; Goodbye._

Martha blotted the words on the page and quietly closed it, reading a couple of the sentences until they were permanently engrained in her memory. Then she placed the leather-bound book carefully under her bed and tucked the pen into the pocket of her skirt. She was so tired. She kept her eyes closed for a moment and then slowly stripped off, folding her shirt and skirt and placing them over the back of the chair with a soft sigh. She missed the alcohol but she was so scared that if she drank she would once again lose control and this time John wouldn't get to her in time to pick up the pieces. She was only in her bra and pants when the phone rang. Groggily, she picked it up and slid it open, her eyes closed.

'Hello…?' There was heavy breathing on the other end and then the iris tones she had come to know and love filtered through the tinny speakers.

'Martha. You left without saying goodbye.' She smiled and then answered him.

'I know. You were crashed on the sofa and it wouldn't have been a good idea to wake you. You need to get sleep so you can rest. I'm going back to work tomorrow so I'll try and get you your job back. No promises, mind.' There was a slight shift in his breathing and she thought she heard his phone shift slightly. Her hand was shaking slightly and she placed her other hand on it, making it stop.

'Thanks, Martha.' She paused, almost pausing in breathing.

'John… I was wondering. After I finish work tomorrow. Do you want to come and have…' She paused, uncertain how to proceed.

'A tipple?' He quipped. She laughed brittley and then he continued. 'Well?' There was a lacuna waiting to be filled with speech that would fill their minds with anticipation. 'Martha?'

'I… John… okay. I'll see you after work then.' There was another awkward silence and then John finally broke it; his breathing barely whispering down the line.

'I'll be seeing you, Martha. Stay safe, okay?' Martha paused, both of her hands now trembling and her eyes rapidly welling up.

'Okay. John, I'll… see you soon.' She left the phone and he hung up after a few minutes. She glanced at the bright screen that slowly faded to black and then placed it on her bedside cabinet. Her mind wandered away as her eyes closed and she felt like she was drifting into a deep dreamscape full of twisted colours and shapes.

_The dark crashed over her in waves, drowning and engulfing her until she could barely breathe. It was covering her eyes and blocking her air passages, the weight crushing her chest with an iron fist. Martha's eyelids fluttered and her eyes snapped open, the darkness around her covering everything in deep drapes and swathes. There was a myriad of shades, all of the dark variety that swirled; the only light was the watch on her wrist. But it wasn't her watch, it was John's. The light danced across the darkness, the slight spots showing palely on the jet-black ceiling. She shook her hair out of her eyes and sat up, the movement sending a ripple of pain across her back and stomach where a sticky substance was slowly dripping. She placed her hand to it and it came away red. But it wasn't her stomach it was her chest, by her heart. Her fingers slipped over the wet, silky material of her shirt and she gasped. There was no pain, no sound, and then no sight. She was just drifting on the edges of consciousness her eyes filling with tears within moments._

She jolted awake, her mouth opening in a silent scream and then she closed her eyes and sobbed into her pillow, unable to make sense of her dreams and what was happening inside her head.

**Reviews make me happy.**

**Stupidly happy.**

**Love for you all because it makes me live.**

**Erin xx  
**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello, full of angst and some little, lovely fluff. I'm so mean to John here so please don't kill me *is waiting to be shot* I'm having a bad time right now so forgive me if I forget to update or lose inspiration. Thanks to XTimeGirlX, Afroza-IX and Dodgy as usual (btw Dodgy, I forgot to reply to your review. I wouldn't know lacuna, I only do because it's on the wall of my English classroom at school :L) As I said I'm having a hard time right now so don't be too mean to me if I don't update**

John sat at home, his fingers gingerly tracing the page he had ripped from her journal, his eyes watering slightly. He knew the words off by heart now, and he knew the meaning behind them too, Google had provided him with that. She was withholding her emotions about someone or something… he bit his lip and traced the pen lines again, his fingers rough against the smooth paper. A tang of blood flooded in his mouth and he swallowed, the harsh, coppery taste drowning his senses and making him choke. Martha's smell still lingered subtlety in the air, blending in with his own cologne and he stood, the ache in his shoulder pervading his mind but he ignored it. He reached her door and placed a hand on the doorknob, suddenly uncertain about opening a door in his own home.

Shaking off the feeling of foreboding he turned the knob and exerted a tiny pressure, the door opening with a quiet scuffling of the thin carpet against the underside. The bed covers had been folded back, a slight ruffle where she had sat. The window was tightly closed, not even a trace of the seasonal cool seeping in. A faint trace of her subtle perfume still lingered in the air and on the fabric in the room, so vague that John could hardly notice it. But he knew it was there. A single auburn hair was on the pillow, discarded and unnoticed by her obsessive clearing of it before she left. He lifted it with his fingers and wound it around two of them, admiring the colour as it twined around them. His phone vibrated against his hip and he extracted it with difficulty, his injured shoulder hampering the dexterity of his hand and arm. After a few moments arguing with the tight material of his pocket, he withdrew it and flipped it open.

_New Message from Martha L._

_I think you've got your job back. You owe me one, John. You start back with the unit on Monday, fingers crossed. Where do you want to meet for a drink?_

Bloom smiled at the words on his phone screen until it faded into black and the auto lock came into effect. He pressed the appropriate buttons that meant the screen would once again start to glow and then replied quickly to her hastily written text.

_Thanks Martha, I know I do but maybe the past few days have returned the favour? How about the bar near yours? See you later._

He hit the send button and then waited for her reply, his breath catching in his throat as he tried to maintain his cool. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he flipped it out, unlocking the phone in a matter of seconds and then reading through the text with a soft breath that misted up the small, cool glass screen. She replied within moments, her text brief and then he shut his phone and once again deposited it in his pocket, causing a harsh pain to prickle uncomfortably along his shoulder blades.

_Why not, I'll see you later_

It seemed to be almost harsh in tone but John knew she was working and that if she had her phone on she would be distracted, she just wanted to do her best for the victims of identity theft that she worked with every day. John sighed and ran his hands through his gloriously unruly hair, the curls springing back into place as soon as he was done. He stood up and applied pressure to his wound, testing the water of how much pressure he could stand before spots danced before his eyes. He took his hand away and leaned heavily against the work surface, slowing his breathing and wiping the cool sweat from his brow. Pain was eating into his life, and getting attacked or someone he loved getting attacked seemed to be almost a daily occurrence. He pushed off from the work surface and shrugged his jacket off before tightening the bandage around his upper bicep.

A slight gasp escaped his parted lips as he tied it, the material exerting a high amount of pressure on his tired and painful muscles. With great difficulty, he rolled down the sleeves of his white cotton t-shirt that clung to his sculpted chest and shrugged on his leather jacket, his uninjured hand going automatically up to smooth the collar down. There was a brief lull, even the traffic outside seemed to have quietened, and then he unceremoniously shovelled his phone into his pocket and opened the door, his finger resting on the latch before he turned it with a practiced motion and the door swung open on its hinges with a quiet squeak. He checked his pockets, fumbling with his keys in the pocket of his jacket and then closing it behind him, his feet resting solidly on the stairs. It took him a moment, but the room corridor stopped spinning and blurring in front of him. He leant against the wall, suddenly losing all sense of balance and having to place his hands against the wall in order to keep upright.

_John I'm there, where are you?_

John rubbed his eyes with a hand that was shaking. His knees felt weak and he held onto the wall as he made his way down, pausing every now and again to get his bearings. He replied to her text in a few seconds, the lights on his phone making the world seem to buck and swirl again.

_I'm on my way, give me ten minutes._

There was no reply, and he slowly made his way there, pausing every now and then to lean against a wall to regain his bearings and stop the light from pulsing around him in strange flashes. He eventually reached the small bar and opened the door, his eyes adjusting incredibly slowly to the dark inside before he saw Martha sat in the corner toying with a beer mat, delicately shredding on corner between her fingers. He sat down opposite her and rested his forehead in his palms, noticing Martha's worried look in his direction.

'John are you okay?' He raised his head, the light making him screw his eyes in an attempt to stop the room whirling sickeningly around him.

'Just… just a bit spaced out is all.' She peered at him, a hand going over to cover his.

'John you look awful.' He lowered his head and closed his eyes, nausea rising in his stomach. She touched his hand and he took a deep breath in, eyes closed. 'You're coming back to mine, come on.' She stood up and placed his arm over her shoulder, leading him gently out of the bar towards her flat. He felt so bad he nearly fell.

**I am mean aren't I?  
Reviews feed my ego and keep me relatively happy and sane  
Love you all ~ *heart***


	17. Chapter 17

**Ahahaha I'm so mean to you guys. But, I guess you know what's coming next ;) Or not. Depending. I'm so mean because people are mean to me *cries* but anyway, have fun reading and please, pleaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaase review *pretty please with a cherry on top and sprinkles with strawberry sauce and a flake?* **

**Thanks as always to XTimeGirlX, Dodgy and Afroza-IX**

**Love you all  
**

Martha gently walked him to the door and opened it, the warm air rushing to envelope their bodies as Martha held John's hand in her own. The warmth made his skin flush slightly and then she closed the door, shutting out the cold air and sealing the warm air in, the heat dancing across her skin. He raised his eyes so that they were level with hers and she gently pressed her hand to his forehead, her nails gingerly pulling at the salt and pepper grey curls and twirling it around her fingers the way he had twined the single hair around his a few hours earlier. His forehead was only slightly feverish now, and she released her hand from his glorious hair, the curl springing back tightly to the rest of his hair.

'Drink?' Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper and John wanted to reach out and stroke her cheek with the side of his hand, feel her soft and warm skin against his calloused and cool. She had already turned away when his hand was close to her cheek and he clumsily dragged it back to his side as if it was his intention all along. Martha moved back round to face him, a wine glass cradled in the palm of one hand and a glass of water in the other.

'You're dehydrated. Here.' She offered the glass of cold water to him and he took it, taking a deep gulp, the rasp in his throat lessening immediately and the regular stabs of pain when he breathed became softer around the edges. Martha's fingers brushed his and he shivered, slopping a few drops of cold water over his hands and over his chest. She smiled as if she'd felt the electricity that passed between them in those few moments when they had skin-to-skin contact. Bloom's eyes flashed in worry and he backed away, suddenly closing up despite wanting nothing more than to hold her tightly and fight away her fears, cater to her desires. She also stepped back reflexively when he did, her eyes closed and her hands clasped in front of her, the thin stem of the wine glass held like a lifeline between her fingers. John peered into her dark eyes and she closed them tightly, brushing her short fringe over her eyes with a deft movement, almost dropping the wineglass in that fraction of a second. John's hand reached down and held it, caught it in his hand and gently cupped it, their skin once again touching. She smiled and dropped her gaze.

'I thought you weren't drinking.' It was a statement and Martha flashed a dull red, her cheeks clashing almost painfully with her hair. John looked alarmed and slid the glass from her hand as it tilted alarmingly, the ruby contents slanting nearly to the thin rim and threatening to discharge itself all over the plain white floor. He placed it gingerly on the side behind him as she struggled with the words, as if forming them was a difficulty for her. He touched her shoulder as if soothing a child, the simple touch lending her his strength and wisdom. She looked up, her face set in lines of clear defiance, her eyes glittering and bright, the flush still in her cheeks. She looked proud. John was in awe of her.

'John. I'm a weak person.' He pulled her into his arms, crushing her in his embrace and kissing the top of her head, gently whispering to her:

'No, you're the strongest person I know.' She clung to him as if her was a lifeline, her hands tight on his jacket and his arms circled protectively around her waist. They stood there for a long while, neither wanting to be the one that would break the embrace, stop the other from what they both knew they were enjoying. John eventually broke it off, placing his hands on her shoulders and staring into her slatey grey eyes that were sparkling in a fit of passion, the flush now gone from her cheeks. She looked so alive, so full of spirit, and so… perfect. The she dropped her gaze, all the fight leaving her body, the twinkle in her eyes diminishing to a tiny sliver of light and then it fizzled out. John tightened his grip on her shoulders, holding her out at arms length and just watching her, keeping her in his line of view. She shrugged him off, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in her own skin, her flesh crawling and a shiver rippling down her back. John took his hands away, toying with the edge of a nail and staring at the ceiling. Martha looked away, the awkward silence descending on them. She turned and closed her eyes, some tears prickling under the lids.

'Are you…?' She paused and licked her lips. 'Are you feeling better?' She raised her head, wiping her eyes discreetly with the cuff of her jumper and placing her trembling hand on the work surface. He looked up, his eyes clouded.

'Huh? Oh… yeah…' He took a sip of water and then placed it back on the side, his hands no longer trembling, his face set in a firm emotion. She looked back at him and then smiled, looking up at him from under her eyelashes. 'Look I…' He made to speak but she cut him off, a finger resting gently on his lips and stopping any movement or sound escaping from them. 'No, Martha I…' She squared her shoulders and more forcefully pushed her finger over his lips, her eyes locking with his. For the first time she felt a shudder of desire, of happiness and passion running through her from deep in her stomach. There was a sickening lurch in her stomach that made the room spin slightly, but his face remained strangely in focus. There was a brief lull in sound and then everything came rushing back as though she had been underwater. She shook her head muzzily, aware of her heartbeat racing in her chest, so loud it was thudding in her ears and the blood was rushing through her veins at speed, causing a flush to rise in her pale face. She could feel the heat radiating off of her body in waves, and was surprised John could not feel it at all. He looked back at her and she saw the spark in her eyes that sent her pulse racing and clattering, skipping beats and sounding loudly, as if it was going to burst from her chest.

'John… I…' He put his finger on her lips and she felt the calloused skin gently scraping against the smoothness of her lips and shivered inwardly. 'I…' He pressed harder.

'Martha…' They both moved in close to one another, eyes still locked and sparks flying from their contact.

**Hey, if you got this far press the review button because it makes me happy and keeps me sane.**

**Love to reviewers and they can have ice cream.**

**~*heart*  
**


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm ill, and also the last freaking paragraph has been evading me for ages, and also I have a feeling this makes no sense but I really don't care because I'm too ill to focus on anything right now. Thanks as always to Afroza-IX, XTimeGirlX & Dodgy and also to my new reviewer, LionessOfTheQuattro :D Love you all very much, and hope you all review again ^w^**

John stepped back, suddenly feeling a rush of heat flood from his toes to the top of his head as Martha trembled in his arms, her hands clutching at the smooth material of his jacket, nails leaving tiny crescents in the dark leather. He leaned down and rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes filling rapidly with warm, stinging and salty tears. She pulled back and looked into his eyes, the tears making the colour of the iris seem to shift slightly from side to side.

'Why are you crying…?' She whispered, her fingers gently tracing the skin on his cheek, her nails gently scraping against it. He shook his head, a tear escaping.

'Because… because I'm scared for you Martha. I'm so scared that Adile is going to hurt you and it will be my fault.' Martha dropped her gaze.

'Why do you care?' He looked her dead in the eyes, one hand wiping his cheeks and the other holding tightly to hers.

'Because… I like you more than I should, more than is healthy for me…' Martha's eyes welled up and a single tear, glittering like a diamond on her smooth cheek before falling off and into the tight weave of her jumper, the trail showing wetly against the skin. 'And Adile will do anything to take you from me… she's ruin everything I ever cared about. She'll hurt you because I care about you. I can't let that happen to you Martha. Honestly I can't. ' Martha didn't move to wipe the tears that were now rolling thick and fast down her cheeks, she felt numb, unable to lift her arms of make her tired mouth form words to respond to him. He raised his eyes. 'Say something…' She shook her head sadly, more tears jerking from her eyes.

'I don't… I don't know what to say to you John.' He touched her cheek with his hand.

'Say something, anything. Just… let me know that it's sunk in.' She paused.

'Basically… what you said… you… you love me, or, at least, like me more than you should. And because you do, Adile will come after me and try to kill me…' John nodded, pressing his forehead against hers with a quiet sigh that gently ruffled the hair that hung slightly over her face. 'What happens now…?' She asked him quietly, her breath tickling his face. John placed his hands on her shoulders.

'Well… that depends on you doesn't it.' It was a statement, a simple string of words that seemed to penetrate her like a punch in the chest. 'Martha.' She closed her eyes and then, gingerly, reached up a hand to stroke his cheek, the few days' stubble scratching on her palm.

'I don't know what to do…' She whispered, her lips barely a millimetre from his. 'I'm scared, John.' He looked at her and her eyes opened, clouded by unshed tears.

'What are you scared of?' He stroked her shoulder with his hand and then combed his fingers through a few strands of her fiery, radiant hair.

'I'm scared of falling.' He kissed her nose gently.

'I won't let you fall.' His breath on her skin seemed to reawaken her senses and she realized how close she was to him, nut strangely enough, it didn't bother her. They clasped hands and their gazes locked again, an unspoken word flowing through some mental connection, both of them realizing in that moment what they wanted. Martha spoke again, the words hardly disturbing the air around them.

'Thank you for everything…' She whispered, suddenly leaning forward and placing a slight, quick kiss on his lips.

She felt him respond within seconds, both of them melting together in each other's arms. Her arms went unconsciously behind his neck and she raised herself onto tiptoes so that they were on a more level footing. He placed his arms on her waist, able to relax slightly as she let her guard down and pushed herself closer to him with a practised movement. His hands were warm against the thin cloth that rested on her hips and she struggled slightly, wanting his warmth everywhere and yet simultaneously nowhere. They stayed locked together for a long while, tongues battling for dominance in their mouths, eyes closed and hands roving, exploring. Martha tucked hers under his jacket, resting on his shoulders and he placed his in her hair, combing out the long strands that entwined themselves easily around his fingers. When they finally broke apart, flushed from the intimacy of the moment, Martha rested her head against his shoulder and he rested his chin on the top of her head. They held each other for a few moments, arms around each other so that they could feel the heartbeat of the other pounding in their ears.

'Wow…' John whispered, cuddling her close and letting his lips brush the top of her head and let his hand gently stroke her arm, revelling in the feeling of her body shivering against his.

'Yeah…' She agreed, her ear resting on his chest so that she could feel his heartbeat thudding in his chest. 'Is… is Adile going to hurt me… because of this…?'

'Only if she saw us… Martha I think I can protect you.' John smiled and dipped his head down to place a gentle kiss on her lips.

'Are you sure?'

'You'll be fine. I'll look after you. In fact, seeing as we busted the Turkish gangs, she might even have left the country.' Martha kissed his cheek on her tiptoes.

'Here's hoping.' She raised her head and looked him straight in the eyes, their clasped hands where they could see them, John's fingers stroking the back of her hand softly. 'Drink?' She laughed shakily, leaning back against the sideboard and tipping her head back as she leant it against the cupboard.

'I think I'm good.' He smiled at her but her eyes were drawn away from him and towards the floor, where a scrap of plain tissue was lying by her feet. 'What's wrong?'

'I'm worried about what Adile's going to do.' Her voice was barely a whisper but he still heard it and pulled her around to face him.

'Well sort it, I promise. I'll find out what threat she poses and neutralize it.' Martha laughed, a mere shadow of her actual laugh, almost as if she didn't believe him. 'Believe me.' She looked at their linked hands and then into his eyes and felt herself relax slightly, her carefully constructed guard dropping.

'I do.'

**Please review if you got this far :D**


	19. Chapter 19

**Wahay, still resolutely ill and tired and feeling incredibly rough. However, I have managed to write this and I think my illiteracy has passed due to illness, however if you see some then please, PLEASE let me know (:  
Lovely new chapter for you all, thanks to Afroza-IX, LionessOfTheQuattro, XTimeGirlX, zoe and My bestie Deana. Dodgy, come back soon (:**

Adile watched the house, her eyes slanting slightly as two figures emerged onto the whitewashed steps, standing close to each other. She moved closer, keeping Brendan, sorry, John at the edge of her sight and Martha in her line of sight, the burnt auburn bright against the plain white of her house. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched the couple come close to one another, the gap between them closing as John placed a ginger, brushing kiss on Martha's lips. Adile felt her heart jump and flutter in her chest, a hollow feeling rising up at the sight of what used to be hers comfortably happy with what she could never contend with. A slight tear rose in her eye and lay there, threatening to spill over onto her seemingly airbrushed cheeks. He looked so happy, so right in that moment Adile turned and walked away, her white coat tails flapping behind her. John and Martha stood silhouetted on the doorstep, their figures entwined together as the sun sent the sky into ripples of orange and tingeing the clouds with a deep red hue and sending shadows into the depths of darkness. As the soft wind blew up around them, blowing the remains of brittle leaf skeletons and frosted leaves around their feet, John stepped back.

'I'll see you at work.' He whispered in her ear, leaving a soft remnant of his breath and smell in her hair and on her clothes. She held tight to his arms for a moment and then he caught hold of her wrists, gently tracing the raised lines on the smooth, porcelain skin. She shivered in the breeze and tugged at the hem of her jumper.

'I don't want you to go.' Her voice was quiet and he wouldn't have heard it if the wind hadn't caught her words and dragged them to his ear.

'I have to.' His words were just as quiet, as though the sound of them was a taboo, as if making them sound in the air would make everything wrong, turn the world around. Martha ducked her head and bit her lip.

'Why? At risk of sounding clingy… why?' John looked down at her and smiled, the very movement of muscles in his face seeming to light it up. Martha looked away.

'Because I have to get changed and have a shower and sort out my flat before I crash out.' He kissed her forehead so gently that there was hardly a touch on her skin but she felt it, and felt the spikes of heat radiating from the briefest contact.

'Okay.' She whispered, getting wrapped in his arms and being held there by him, breathing in his scent and memorizing the feel of him under her hands.

'I'll see you then.' He muttered, not wanting to let go of her at all, he didn't want to lose the warmth she was supplying by leaving her. The cold wind was whipping up around them and Martha shivered, holding on tight to John.

'Yeah… Goodbye.' She raised herself up onto her tiptoes and he dipped his head down, their lips meeting in the middle for a few precious moments. 'I'll see you.' She whispered, closing her eyes a little bit as they broke apart, their hands staying linked for a moment before Martha pulled hers from his gentle grasp.

'See you Martha.' John released her hand and then walked away, looking back once at her and smiling before turning on his heel and wandering briskly down the road. Martha watched him go and then turned and walked inside, feeling a sudden rush of emptiness in her chest.

**oOo**

John ducked his head and entered the park; his eyes scanning the few crowds of people around him that were clumping together as though they sensed him in their midst, someone who so obviously didn't belong. The tail of a white coat caught his eye and he followed the trail up to a figure he recognised, would always recognise no matter how long they were apart. They had been lovers, he would never forget that. Adile Kamal turned and faced him; her darker skin on her face was as though it had been dipped in a bucket of water, it was completely awash with salty tears.

'It's really over then.' She whispered, it wasn't a question. John nodded.

'I take it you saw then.' Adile turned to look at him.

'It's really over. Really over.' She closed her eyes and wiped her face off with her sleeve, staring down at the floor. John straightened up.

'It is. Adile, I think you should realize now that you and I are over, and we have been now for a while. Are you going to hurt Martha, are you going to hurt me?' Adile looked up, genuinely startled at the accusatory tone in his voice.

'I thought about it… honestly I did. I wanted to, I really did. I wanted to hurt you because of my brother and my father and because you left me high and dry to help your co-worker turned girlfriend but… no. I can't do that to you even though I really want to hurt you.' She paused and then raised a hand, weighing the options as though she could feel them. 'But…' She turned her face to him and then raised a hand and slapped him on the cheek. 'You deserved that. Goodnight, Brendan.' He sat there on the bench as she walked away, his cheek stinging but his pride lying broken and in tatters on the floor. John stood up and felt his fingers running subconsciously over the deep red welts on his face, the shape of Adile's fingers imparted on his skin.

'Well… you may have gone but you left a lasting impact on my life, if at least on the surface.' He walked out of the park quickly, night having fallen as they had talked, the bright orange lamps lighting the way and casting his shadow into deeper relief. The pavement was littered with dead leaves and he skirted the remains of a smashed bottle, his shadow rippling and undulating as he moved. Something wet landed on his nose and he looked up, startled, the sky above him seeming to split into individual white flakes that covered his form in a slight wrapping of icy brilliance. The snow cascaded around him, peppering him in the icy slivers that shot down the back of his neck and made him shiver. He rammed his hands into his pockets and promptly drew them out again as he made unwanted contact with his phone, bending his fingers back against the smooth glass screen. He drew it out and checked it for damage, checking his messages and calls as he did so. There were none. He raised the phone to his ear and smiled as he heard the call connect.

'John?'

**Hope you enjoy this chapter muchly and review it if you get this far (:**

**Excessive amounts of love for you all  
**


	20. Chapter 20

**Oh my, it's been ten days since I last updated D: I am so sorry! I've been caught up in some crap right now but it's sorting itself out. Happy new year actually! Yeah, down here in the south east it's cold but not as cold as it could be (: No snow unfortunately, though I wanted some snow for this story :D Yes Martha is getting pathetic but I tried to rectify that in the end. Also, slow updates for a while because I have a GCSE in a couple weeks time so I'll be doing a load of revision (:**

**Thanks as always to: Dodgy, Afroza-IX, XTimeGirlX and my new reviewer :D DCIPHOENIX Hope you all like it (:  
**

Martha stood out in the snow, the soft white flakes dancing and twirling around her as she shivered, her hair getting hidden under a cold white covering. She shivered as a flake went down the back of her neck, squirming slightly as it melted and began to drip down her back. She wasn't wearing a coat, and her thin jumper, as much as it covered her, gave no protection from the chilling wind and the snowflakes that were slowly melting on her clothing. She retreated a little closer to her house, her back garden slowly becoming a beautiful and sparkling winter wonderland. An arm pulled around her waist and she let out a little squeak of terror that instantly turned to delight as she realized it was John.

'Hey.' She whispered, not wanting to disturb the magic of the falling snow, drifting down past them in a soft flurry. He didn't answer, instead just rested his chin on her head and watched the snow, observing as it covered their footprints within a few minutes of falling. She leaned back in his arms, pulling them around her to conserve all her body heat and steal his so that she could stay a little warmer than before.

'Hey.' He finally replied, his soft Irish tones melting her heart a little and his embrace warming her so that she was no longer cold, though the snow had made her damp.

'Is Adile really gone?' She whispered, the magic of the moment still holding them in it's thrall and keeping them rooted to the spot and almost silent save for the quiet puffs of air from their mouths as the cool pervaded their lungs.

'Yes.' His words were now so quiet she could hardly hear them and she turned to look at him, surprised to see that his eyes were closed. His fingers tightened on her arm nearly to the point of pain and she shook him off, linking her fingers with his other hand. She nudged his ribs gently and he looked down, startled.

'Are you okay?' He looked down at her, the rigid lines in his face softening as he saw her frightened expression. He dipped down and kissed her forehead softly.

'Of course.' There was a brief pause in which Martha extricated herself from him and turned to face him, eyebrows raised to the point where they in danger of vanishing into her hair. He faltered. 'I… Adile said she wasn't going to hurt you but… I don't believe her and I'm worried that she was lying.' It was then that Martha noticed the red weal on his face that was slowly fading in the frigid night air. She placed her hand on it and he flinched away from her touch, wincing as she made contact ever so gently on his face. Her fingers fitted perfectly within the red mark.

'She slapped you.' It wasn't a question, and he pulled her hand away, engulfing it with his warm, strong hands. He nodded slowly.

'She did.' Martha looked at his cheek and knew the familiar pang of empathy sting in her chest where her heart was. Martha began to shiver and made a quick dash inside, aware of how cold and wet she now was. John followed her and when they reached the kitchen he pulled her quickly and roughly into his embrace. 'Goodnight.'

'Goodnight.' She whispered, kissing him gently and then watching him leave. When he had gone, she sedately climbed the stairs and reached her bedroom. She crouched down and hooked her leather journal out from under her bed, the nagging voice inside her head telling her that it was a bad idea, but she lifted it up anyway. The biro concealed in her deep skirt pocket dug into her hip slightly as she worked it out and into her hand, uncapping it with her teeth as she flipped the diary open.

_Diary, I know I said I wouldn't write in here again but I have to. Journal and John, you're one and the same. Only the real John is hurting and he won't tell me why. I thought he cared about me but he won't tell me what's wrong; I need to know because of my empathy matrix. I have a huge one and you know what? I think that's why I tried to kill myself. All the pain and suffering coupled with the emotional stress on me and the empathizing… I guess I should have been stronger. Known better. But he saved me. Saved my life. I should be grateful. But a part of me is now wishing he'd left me to die._

Tears were forming in her eyes and she raised her hand to dash them away with a practised jerk of her wrist. She paused again and then her pen touched paper.

_He's my friend, my colleague… my… boyfriend? I don't know. But he's still so secretive, I thought being with me would have changed that, maybe he would have talked to me and told me what was going on. I still feel as alone as ever. I want him to be frank with me, let me know what's going on. Maybe I can help. But right now, I just feel so useless and worthless. And alone. Bitterly, painfully… alone._

Martha capped her pen again and closed her diary, sliding it back under the bed and then, feeling repulsed by her words, threw the pen from her so that it landed by the skirting board with a quiet tap. A few thoughts started drifting through her head and she shook it, trying to clear them, but one came brighter into focus.

_If Adile doesn't want to hurt John she's not doing well. She shot him and slapped him. So much for promises._

Martha stemmed the flow of tears with her sleeve and felt the strong, pulling desire to find her razorblade and do what she had promised John she would not do again. The nearly healed cuts from before were tingling softly beneath her sleeve as they brushed them, and she felt a stirring of sadness deep inside her chest as if her heart was breaking. She didn't understand it. She should be happy; she had John and Adile was gone… but still, there was something missing. A missing link that was yet to be fixed in place. She dragged herself onto the bed and curled up in a ball, trembling and shaking at the thought of what was to come. She felt pathetic for being so weak and useless for a stupid reason that hardly mattered. The urge to inflict pain was becoming difficult to ignore by this point, so she burrowed under her covers and curled herself up into a tight ball, the darkness enveloping her in its warmth.

**Dude I'm so emo. Ok, so, we haven't seen much of the plot bunnies for a while so here they come! *gets engulfed by a mountain of plot bunnies* Feed them reviews, it makes them stay living :D**


	21. Chapter 21

**Eight days since I last updated, woo! Probably could still be counted as seven considering the time. (Well I guess insomnia has upsides too) But yes, by the time this is posted and you all receive the emails it will be around 2 am. (Normal time for even considering sleep for me) Okay, I didn't want to push this up to "M" [Though I could] so the ending makes sense if you get what I mean ;D I am quite proud to say I have made new friends on here and I just wanted to say thank you (I get sentimental in the ridiculous time when everyone else is asleep and I am not) for everything.  
Also a massive thanks to: Afroza-IX (Check out her story _Depression_), Dodgy (Check out her story _Inexplicable_), LionessOfTheQuattro and XTimeGirlX (Check out her story _Behind The Mask_). Also to my new friend DCIPHOENIX  
**

John settled himself on the sofa, one hand massaging the painful twinge on his scabbed over wound and the other clutching the neck of the beer bottle tightly, the sweat on it sliding down his palm. He tipped it back and swallowed the frothy, sloshing liquid, the slightly bitter taste making his face twist up slightly. He kept drinking though, and he was finding his eyes swimming in and out of focus, like the room was spinning. He was getting steadily slaughtered and what was more, he didn't care. He bottle clinked against a couple of others as he set it down on the floor by his feet as he sprawled across the cushions of the sofa.

He was getting to the point where he was feeling as though he would be violently ill when there was a knock on the door. Warily, unsteadily, he scrambled to his feet and took a few meandering steps towards the front door, pushing down the pangs of nausea. After a few steps he realized how drunk he was, and that it wasn't as bad as he had previously thought. He paused for a few moments in the bathroom to splash cold water over his face, banishing the worst parts of his definitely not sober manner. The tap on the door came again, more incessant and seemingly more worried. Then the voice he had been longing to hear all night filtered through the thin panelling and varnish, filling his mind.

'I… I don't know why I'm here.' Martha's voice resonated in his head as he pulled the door open and stepped back, closing his eyes tight for a moment to stave off the impending headache and blurry vision. 'I hope I'm not intruding.' She blurted out within seconds of entering the warm flat, her cheeks pink and her eyes red and puffy with mascara tracks covering her face. As he watched she started to tremble and quiver, tears falling like perfect diamonds from her eyes and splintering into a thousand crystal shards on his carpet. Without letting his drunken brain think; he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight embrace, kissing the top of her head gently and repeatedly.

'Shush, it's okay. Shush, it'll be okay.' He whispered into her bright hair, breathing in the scent of her and caressing her arms with gentle, loving motions. She trembled in his arms, unable to think beyond clutching at him and letting him hold her, locking her in this embrace. When she had left her house she hadn't thought beyond getting to his flat, hadn't thought what she would do when she got there. But she just let him hold her, her tears eventually stemming and her terrible, heart wrenching, body shaking sobs subsiding to the occasional whimper and sniff.

'Do you love me?' She whispered, hardly daring to believe she had said it, unable to process the thoughts of what had just happened. The words had come from her lips but did not feel as if they came from her. There was a silence marked only by her deep breaths and the sound of her heartbeat racing in her ears. And then…

'Yes.' The word was a whisper on his tongue and she had to strain to hear it, but she heard it. She unwound herself from his embrace and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, the mascara trails smudging worse than ever. She felt suddenly self-conscious and dropped her gaze to the floor, a horrible red flush rising up in her cheeks and across her neck. John placed his fingers under her chin and tipped her head back so that he could see her face.

'Wha…?' She closed her eyes, the eyelashes still rimed with droplets of tears.

'Don't be self-conscious, I can't see your beautiful face if you look at the floor.' He looked her dead in the eyes; his blue ones boring into her slatey, tear misted ones.

'I'm not beautiful, John.' She told him without pausing to process.

'To me you are.' His voice was husky and quiet, almost to the point where she couldn't hear him speaking. She blushed again; this time he could see it creeping along her cheekbones and her jaw, up under her eyes as they sparkled.

'No… I'm not.' She shook back her sleeves as if to make a point, so that he could see the horrendous wounds that she had inflicted on herself in the depths of her despair.

'You'll always be beautiful to me.' Those words captured her soul and she felt her heart lurch as it skipped a beat, a tiny fluttering in her chest that grew into a racing heartbeat, leaving her breathless with the power of it.

'Will I though?' She sounded clingy and immediately regretted voicing her internal fears to him, her fingers linked together to the point of painful. He broke the link between her fingers and pulled her scratched and scarred wrist to his lips.

'Of course. Always._ Forever_.' His voice was hardly audible and his breath warmed the scars, making them tingle. Her eyes closed fractionally as he leaned towards her, dropping her arm and taking her hands instead. His shoulder twinged slightly and Martha saw the momentary tension on his brow before reaching out a hand and stroking it, her fingers caressing it softly and slowly teasing out the knots behind the wound, lessening the pressure. He slowly manoeuvred himself around so that he was in front of her and then used hid bodyweight to push her up against the wall, not hard, gently so that there was still space between them. She didn't notice until her back bumped against the wall and she felt the cool through her jumper. Her hands never ceased movement on his shoulder, relieving the pain for a few precious moments. John's brain had become suddenly alert and active as the adrenaline pulsed through him at the feel of Martha against him.

'What are you doing?' She whispered against his throat, her lips just about brushing the delicate skin on his neck. He pushed her slightly harder back against the wall and her breathing increased in speed, hitched slightly. John didn't answer so she raised her head and looked him in the eyes, her hair falling in front of her face. John tucked it behind her ear and rested his hand behind her head, locking eyes with her. She took a breath and then they both leaned forwards, her hand trembling slightly as she saw the pain in his china blue eyes. He pushed her harder against the wall and then kissed her, hard and full of passion. She felt a fleeting stab of sadness being replaced by an overwhelming rush of affection and longing and she felt a soft mew issue from her throat. John seemed to notice this, but placed his hands on either side of her waist and lifted her, their lips breaking apart so that she could whisper in his ear.

_'I want this. I want you.' _That was all the confirmation he needed.

**Return of the plot bunnies! (Heck that could be a film xD) Feed them reviews and they will grow fat and healthy and loveable and bring you more lovely Jartha fluff ^^**


	22. Chapter 22

**Wow. 13 days since my last update, unlucky for some ;D Some pillow talk/fluff and the work XD I am so mean to Anthony and then to the wonderful couple... sorry. Some angst at the end and a cliffhanger ;D I'm actually quite glad I didn't push this up to "M" cause I think I might have ruined it if I did... the plot bunnies received food and attacked me during my Physics GCSE, if I fail I blame the plot bunnies (And I have failed... I just know it. Oops.)  
Thanks as always to: Afroza-IX, LionessOfTheQuattro, Dodgy, Deana, XTimeGirlX, DCIPHOENIX and also to Phoebe who is reading this - ****just know I care  
Also I am in love with Coldplay right now (':**

John rolled over, wincing as the pale pre dawn light stabbed violently into his eyes and also as he lifted his shoulder out from under his body. He laid for a moment, staring at the plain white ceiling above him before rolling over to face the beautiful woman asleep next to him, her auburn hair falling over her face. Her eyes were closed and her hair flicked over her face, hiding her complexion and delicate features from his roving eyes. He shuffled carefully across the bed to her and pushed himself up onto one arm to that he could watch her sleep, her pale cheeks awash with colour. She rolled over slightly, one hand reaching out to feel the warmth of him on her skin. He dipped down to her and woke her with a kiss, her hands going round to touch his neck with cool fingers as she awoke, barely aware of her actions.

'Good morning.' She breathed, resting her head against his chest that was always visible beneath his tight t-shirts. He smoothed her hair down with his hand and kissed the top of her head gently, barely touching her at all.

'Hey.' His voice was slurred with tiredness and his accent was strung out, more of a drawl than his usual enunciation. She ran her fingers gingerly through his tight curls of salt and pepper hair, her other hand resting loosely on his chest.

'I should go.' She murmured suddenly, her fingers ceasing in their movement through his hair. He looked at her and pressed his lips to her forehead.

'Don't…' He whispered, capturing her with his arms. 'Don't go…' She wriggled out of his embrace and kissed him gently on the lips before leaning down and pulling on her underwear before tugging her blouse around herself.

'I have to. People will talk.' He clutched her hand and dragged her back onto the bed.

'I want people to talk about us… I want to show off my beautiful girlfriend.' She smiled but pushed off from him, evading his hands and pulling up her pencil skirt before shrugging her long jumper on.

'John. We'll get fired. Well, you will. Again.' He smiled his adorable smile and made a halfhearted attempt to grab her hand again. She swatted him away and then slipped her shoes on before leaving the room. John heard her collect her bag from by the door where it had been dropped in the frenzy of last night. She poked her head around the door and smiled, her eyes focussing on him as he lay under the duvet, a hand trailing across the exposed mattress where she had been a few minutes ago.

'See you at work?' He asked quietly. She loped across the room and dipped down to kiss him, feeling nothing more than wanting to climb back into bed with him.

'Of course. You should get up.' He prodded her gently in the ribs.

'Jeez Martha it's seven in the morning.' She smiled and kissed him lightly again.

'Okay, maybe it's just me that gets up at these ungodly hours.'

'Yes. It is just you. I'll get up in about an hour.' He cupped her face with his palms.

'I'll see you later okay?' She whispered before walking out of his room and then out of his flat as he heard the door slam. There was an oppressive silence for a moment but then he relaxed slightly, the tension he had not even been aware of leaving his body in a flood. He breathed out for a moment and then stared at the ceiling, the single light fixture blurring in front of his eyes.

_What have I done…?_ He thought savagely, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to taste the metallic tang of blood on his tongue. _She's a wounded and broken person and I'm not the right guy to try and fix her at all… I'm scared of breaking her more than she already is. What have I done…?_

**oOo**

John arrived at the Identity unit at ten minutes past nine. Ten minutes late to be precise. Anthony swept past him in his Armani suit and a deep blue tie with some designer make he couldn't pronounce, glaring at him in his battered motorbike jacket and faded jeans with a large rip in both of the knees.

'Working day starts at nine, Bloom.' The voice held a trace of venom and John recoiled slightly as the other man's dark eyes bored through him. Bloom looked away, lowering his gaze to the floor and biting on his lip to stop a peal of laughter escaping his lips at the pompousness of the other man's manner.

'I apologize, Anthony. I hope we can achieve a practical working environment and overcome our differences since my last employment.' John was struggling to hold back laughter at the look on Anthony's usually composed face.

'Differences? John you were involved in an illegal Turkish gang and jeopardized the entire unit as well as the life of its founder, Ms Martha Lawson!' Anthony was nearly spitting sparks by now. John looked up, now completely composed.

'Ah. Yes of course. Can you forgive me?' Anthony finally seemed to cotton on to the fact that he was being mocked and turned smartly away, walking directly into a wall before striding away quicker than he would have normally. John laughed and looked around, noticing that Martha had been watching the whole exchange through the glass walls of her office. He caught her eye and tipped a slight wink to her before wandering casually over and through the door.

'Ah Bloom. I assume you're here to discuss your impromptu return to the work of the Identity unit?' He had to hand it to her; she had a handle on this very well, especially in the vicinity of their co-workers. There was no hint of what had happened between them surfacing in the workplace and he was quite happy to keep it that way, at least in public. For the time being.

'I am Martha.' His Irish drawl resounded in the closed space and she felt a flush rise in her cheeks as memories came flooding in. 'You look cute when you blush.' He whispered to her, blue eyes seeking out her slatey grey ones in the moment.

'Yes of course…' He got the feeling that she was answering both his statements in one swoop that could have been considered professional to the casual observer. 'Now, as you are a valuable asset to-'

'The team.' He finished for her, smiling a charming smile that made her heart melt.

'Yes, well, as you are we want you in the field, and I can't really see you doing the amount of paperwork the others do somehow.' He let out a slight laugh. She raised her eyes up to him and felt a shiver run through her.

'No… me neither.' He was perched on the edge of the desk now and, knowing full well that they were both committing career suicide, he whispered in her ear. 'Dinner at mine tonight?' She blushed and placed her hand on his.

'Sure. I look forward to it.' She whispered back, forgetting that the blinds were not drawn and people could see. He kissed her gently on the lips and she responded, just as the plate glass door swung slowly open to reveal Tessa standing in the doorway. John jumped off her desk and went behind Martha, placing his hands on her shoulders, reassuring her with his presence. Tessa looked scandalised.

'What the…?'

'We can explain.' John filled the awkward silence that tenuously stretched in the small room.

**Feed the plot bunnies! Also, I might not update for a while cause I'm working on a novel with a friend and a joint story *possibly* with the lovely Celtic-Dreamscape ^^ (If you wanna know about the novel drop a line in your review)**


	23. Chapter 23

**OwO 38 DAYS. 38! I AM SO SORRY! This eluded me forever, I had no way to end this properly and... I feel awful.**

**So new update here, please enjoy it**

***crosses fingers*  
**

Tessa stared blankly at them as John rubbed Martha's shoulders gently, hardly daring to move and face the rush of Tessa's barely contained and about to be unbound hurricane of her rushing fury. Tessa bristled and bit down on her lip, head pushing to door closed behind her and leaning against it. She stared at the couple that were close behind one another, hands linked with John's resting on Martha's shoulders and her hands resting on his.

'We can definitely explain…' John floundered, fishing in his mind for a few answers that he could string together to make a coherent sentence. Tessa watched him, unimpressed with his effort to make a convincing lie.

'So explain.' He shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the top of Martha's head, the tremors in her body clearly visible from his angle.

'Well… Martha and I…. We…' Tessa paused and placed her hands on her hips, as John looked away, eyes lowered to Martha's upturned face.

'Look, Tessa.' Martha began, her tipped back with her eyes locked onto his. 'Me and John… have a close relationship.' Tessa rolled her eyes at them and Martha felt a flicker of annoyance cross her face at the anger. 'For God's sake Tessa!' She shouted, placing her hand flat on the desk so as not to show her trembles in her arms.

'What Martha?' Tessa glared at her boss, the flush in her cheeks slowly rising and giving her a look of fiery vengeance and wrath.

'We had sex.' John snapped at Tessa, noticing a second after that Martha's jaw had gone slack and she had dropped her head to gaze at the floor. There was a tenuous stretched silence and John placed his hand on the back of Martha's neck, desperately trying to convey how sorry he was through touch. Martha placed her hand against his hand, the warmth radiating from them both warming the other.

'John. Martha. What?' John kissed the top of Martha's head and dipped down, mouth next to her ear, his breath gently warming her skin.

'I'm so sorry.' He whispered in Martha's ear and she shivered, her hand, hidden behind her desk, caressing his. 'I love you.' Tessa looked beadily at them.

'I repeat. John. Martha. What?' Martha squared her shoulders in a gesture of defiance and tilted her head to face Martha's, eyes wide with fear she was not letting be shown anywhere else.

'John and I are an item. Let me make that clear to you. Also, for the moment, I see no reason why we can't work together in an environment that is both professional and efficient when dealing with the sensitive cases we work with.' Martha paused; a slight flutter in her chest and her cheeks a pale flush of delicate red. Tessa swayed for a moment, her mind racing a mile a minute before she let herself relax, the tension in her muscles easing and the rigidity of her stance becoming more at ease. There was a brief silence and then Tessa broke it with a cough, her hands clenching by her sides as John and Martha conversed in rapid undertones, their heads together. They both looked up as Tessa coughed.

'Sorry to break to up this gathering but what's actually going to happen?' They looked blankly back at her and she stared at them, a determined glint in her eyes.

'As in…?' Martha asked her, her body tensing like a coiled spring.

'Well… are you two going to be able to work together or what?' John laughed.

'Of course, we won't jeopardise the unit, we never would. Our relationship should not affect the work of us or any one in the team, however we would like to keep it on the down low for the minute.' Martha told her, a hint of apology in her voice.

'I can keep secrets.' Tessa nearly whispered, her mind flashing back to her school days, how her father used to beat her mother and how she would go to school every day with bruises on her arms from sticking up for the most important woman in her life. 'I can keep this secret for you. I promise.' She sounded as though she was making a pact to herself as well as them. Martha stood up and reached for her.

'I know you can. I understand.' The two women looked at one another and the look of mutual respect and understanding flitted between the two of them in an instant. Martha just wanted to wrap Tessa in her arms, envelope the other woman in her arms and hold her close to her warm body. Tessa's face crumpled for a split second and then reformed into a smooth mask of tolerance, a fake smile plastered over her momentarily tortured face. Tessa turned towards the door.

'I won't say anything you know.' Martha touched her hands softly.

'I know you won't. I trust you.' Tessa summoned up a smile from somewhere and then placed her palm on the glass door, pushing it open and vanishing. John looked at Martha with a smile and she returned it weakly, her skin pale and her dark ringed eyes stark against the pale cream of her office. She twisted the blinds on the door and the window, plunging them both into semi-darkness that came from weak sunlight filtering through the pale blinds. He walked towards her and they stood, heads together with arms wrapped around each other. There was a quiet tap on the door and they sprung apart, John sitting down in the chair opposite hers as Martha opened the door and granted José access. He poked his curly head around the door and started when he noticed John in her office.

'I'm… sorry for interrupting… Tessa managed to pull some files from the case.' Martha nodded absent-mindedly and then smiled, a forced strange smiled that stretched across her face in a parody of what it had been before.

'Sure. I'll be out in a minute.' José nodded and backed out of the room, leaving Martha and John alone again. John stood and embraced her again, his arms wrapping tightly around her. They stood bathed in chalky light for a moment, just a moment that would hold them through this day.

**So sorry ):**

**Please review  
**


	24. Chapter 24

**Emo Martha aaggaaaaain! I only got like... 1 review *cries* Please review this time, me feeling lonely ): Also I think this one is better than the other chapter, so much love and critique is appreciated**

Martha shut herself in the bathroom, resting her forehead against the smooth door and feeling a thin trickle of sweat running down her cheek as she shook slightly with anticipation. The razor held loosely between two fingers glinted with the harsh lights of the ceiling and as she turned it the sharp edge bit coldly into the smooth, soft skin on her fingertips. She felt tears well up in her eyes, as she knew the betrayal she was about to commit, telling John she would never cut again.

But she needed to, she needed the release the cut brought, needed to feel the flow of deep red venous blood over her arm. She raised the razor slightly and twisted it, placing the thin sharp metal against the smooth skin on her wrist, her heart racing and pulsing in her throat.

The door crashed open and she froze, unable to move as footsteps paraded down the long room and halted outside her bathroom cubicle. Martha gripped the blade tighter and pressed it down on her skin, slowly drawing it back so that a bead of blood welled up and started to roll gently down her pale skin.

Biting down hard on her lip, she gently pressed a folded sheet of toilet paper to the cut, stemming the flow of bright scarlet. All she could hear from outside was loud breathing and then a voice rang out, jolting her to the core.

'Martha?' The Irish tones flowed over her mind and she felt her body lock, the blade poised over her wrist, already dripping a small amount of blood. 'Look, I know you're there; you've been here for twenty minutes. Come out. Please?' Martha took a shaky breath in, but stayed exactly where she was, trembling in anticipation. 'Martha?' She stayed poised on the toilet, resting her head in her hands and wincing as she inspected her fingertips for small, miniscule cuts that hurt worse than the larger ones.

'You don't open this door and I'll break it down.' Martha froze, the blood rushing in her ears, rushing through her. He couldn't see her, not like this. She heard a slight clicking and watched as the lock slowly turned back on itself and the door swung open. John stood in front, an unfolded paperclip held in one hand. He took one look at her pale face and her wrist covered in thin toilet paper and sat on the floor, holding her good hand and gingerly prying the razor from it. She felt as though she were choking on tears, her throat working and simultaneously clogging up.

'I'm so sorry.' She whispered, clinging tightly to his hand and wincing as he moved to look at her injured wrist. 'So… so sorry.' She said softly, tears falling thick and fast into her lap as he gently kissed the red mark, his lips getting a slight blush of blood.

'Shh… it's okay.' He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and then kissed her gently, leaning forwards to hold her tightly in his arms. She responded to his touch and found herself falling into his warmth, being supported by him as he gingerly caressed her back and shoulders, his warmth becoming hers.

'I'm sorry.' She kept repeating, more tears coursing down her cheeks and dampening John's salt and pepper curls as he rocked her gently, despite the awkward position he was in.

'Hey, it's okay. I promise you. We just need to get out of here, okay?' She trembled in his arms and he held her close, kissing the top of her head. 'We'll get out of here. Just for today.' She nodded against his chest and pulled her sleeve down over her wrist, a blank, mask-like look on her face. He took said hand and they walked out of the bathroom hand in hand, swiftly letting go as they realized that this was the workplace and not a social gathering. John leaned in and whispered gently in her ear.

'Come to mine. We can talk there. It's five minutes away.' She nodded and they both slid into the elevator, forcing conversation to spread the gap between them until it reached the ground floor.

At which point, they both walked quickly away from the building and towards John's, neither of them trying to carry a conversation. Within a few moments they were at his door and he unlocked it, both of them lapsing into uneasy silence until they were inside and alone. Then he sat her down and walked to his cupboard, setting down two mugs of coffee and switching on the kettle. Martha sat, shrunk down in her clothes, huddled against the wall in her chair, her whole body trembling. He leaned down and kissed her forehead gently.

'Stay there a moment.' He hurried to his bathroom and opened the mirrored cabinet, removing carefully a box of plasters, a bottle of disinfectant, a pad of gauze and a bandage wrapped in plastic. He came out of the bathroom and shuffled carefully towards the kitchen, his ears pricking up as he heard Martha's stifled sobs and a strange clatter. He opened the door and saw the blade lying on the floor, another stain on blade. He gently knelt beside her and lifted her from the chair, her weak and limp form barely weighing anything in his arms. Gingerly, he stroked her hair from her sweaty forehead and sat down gently on the sofa in the lounge with her, kissing her cheeks and forehead gently with the slightest brushing of lips.

She mewed softly and he peeled back her sleeve, gently balling a small amount of cotton wool between his fingers and tipping a few drops of antiseptic onto the ball. He gingerly swabbed the wound and she flinched away as it stung bitterly, her eyes welling up with tears.

'I know it hurts, I know, I know. But I've gotta do this you know?' She nodded and he continued swabbing until all the dried blood had gone and the ball was tinged scarlet. He placed the pad of gauze on her wrist and tore open the plastic covering of the bandage, tying it tightly around her wrist in a soft white bandage. Martha rolled into his arms and he kissed her neck, holding and supporting her in his arms as she silently sobbed into his chest. 'It's okay. It's okay. I got you. Shhh…' She held tight to his arms and he rocked her gently, her wrist throbbing.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.' She whispered to him, holding tight to him and not letting go, making sure his arms were tight around him.

'No, I should be sorry. I should have looked out for you today.'

'It's not your fault. I picked up the razor.'

'It's okay. I don't blame you.' He kissed her head gently and she drifted into sleep, John's arms secure around her, finally calm again.

**INCREDIBLE LOVE FOR REVIEWERS. You get cookies and feedy teh plot bunnies ;D**


	25. Chapter 25

**Just for my good friend, Rosie Phoenix and her request to be written in. I hope you like it Rosiee! Well anyway**, **this took forever to write and forever to do, cause I couldn't figure out how to end this chapter. I hope you like John and Martha and our newly introduced character, Rosie (: Enjoy, review, make me happy.**

**Much loveeeee (:**

**

* * *

**John gently offloaded her onto the sofa and stood up, stretching out his limbs and shuddering slightly, easing the stiffness in his muscles. The kettle had long boiled and gone cold again, so he flicked the electric switch and set the water heating again. After a few moments of leaning against the side he realized that her blade was still on the floor and also that there was a couple of drops of blood on the floor. He knelt and used a small piece of damp paper towel to remove the red stain and tossed it smartly in the bin with a practised flick of the hand. He turned sharply as there was a tap at the door; it broke into his thoughts, rudely interrupting his train of thinking.

'Who is it?' He called softly, careful not to wake Martha but loud enough that it carried through the thin wooden panelling of the door. There was a muffled reply, so he walked to the door and opened it; the white panelling swinging inwards to reveal a young woman perched on his top step. He clinically observed her, her deep chestnut hair that fell in gentle waves around her face and her blue eyes that seemed to sparkle in her pale face.

'Oh… I was told Martha Lawson would be here.' She smiled at him and he kept his eyes fixed on her, not removing his eyes from her form.

'She is… who are you?' She seemed startled at this and then shook her head.

'Sorry, I meant to introduce myself. I'm DCI Rosie Phoenix, metropolitan police force.' John made no move to invite her in or even be hospitable.

'How do you know Martha?' He asked, moving backwards to allow her entrance to his flat, which was significantly warmer than the corridor outside.

'We did basic training together in Portsmouth, we were friends.' John nodded and shut the door, leaning against it and watching the young DCI as she stood awkwardly in the small corridor, her uniform neat and pressed. Her black leather jacket that seemed well worn was slightly too small, but not to the point of incredibly noticeable. John heard the kettle click off and loped slightly into the kitchen, laying out a mug and then, as an afterthought, called over his shoulder.

'DCI Phoenix?'

'Rosie.'

'Rosie, coffee, tea…?' John went clattering through the cupboards and his eyes alighted on another pot. 'Hot chocolate?'

'Hot chocolate, please.' She sat down on one of the wooden chairs next to the small table, covered in chips and stains from old coffee cups. John set out another mug and filled it with Martha's favourite blend of coffee that he had recovered from hers on his visit there a few days earlier. He handed her a hot chocolate, the top whipped up into a light froth and a float of cream, topped with chocolate sprinkles. Rosie hadn't even noticed that John had used whipped cream or sprinkles, yet smiled and took a deep sip anyway.

'Do you want to see Martha?' John asked her slowly, sipping his black coffee whilst leaning against the work surface, the mug warming his hands. Rosie lowered her mug gently and set it down on the tabletop, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

'Is it possible?' She smiled at him and lowered her bright blue eyes.

'Sure.' He placed his mug down and walked past her into the lounge. Martha was asleep, her eyes fluttering gently as she dreamed, her auburn hair hanging over her face in a delicious way. John touched her hand gently and she stirred, sitting up and wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

'Hey.' She whispered, her cheeks red and puffy with the remains of mascara trails running across the pale porcelain coloured skin.

'Martha… a friend's here to see you.' Martha blinked her slatey eyes and looked up at him in abject confusion, her brow furrowing slightly.

'What…?' He touched her wrist gently, stroking the smooth white dressing fondly and smiling at her.

'A friend.' She sat up and he pulled her into standing, wrapping his arms around her and holding tightly to her so that she didn't fall. She whispered into his ear softly.

'Who?' He squeezed her tighter to his chest.

'Rosie Phoenix. She said you did basic training in Portsmouth together or something.'

'Oh. Yes. I remember.' She pushed away. 'Stay here, okay?' He looked at her and kissed her lips gently, applying slight pressure to her waist as he held her.

'For you, okay.' She kissed his cheek and left, her hand trailing on his waist as she made her way out. She stepped into the kitchen, looking around awkwardly and smiling as she saw her old friend sat at the table, sipping on her signature drink, the one she always had. Rosie stood awkwardly, placing her drink on the table and watching Martha warily. Martha took an awkward step forward, and then Rosie wrapped her arms around the burnt auburn haired woman that stood in front of her.

'Martha I missed you!' Rosie exclaimed, letting go of one of her closest friends and sitting back down on her chair, lifting her mug to her lips and taking a long sip of the warm liquid that tingled slowly down her throat. Martha smiled and sat down opposite her, resting her bandaged wrist on the tabletop, the whiteness incredibly conspicuous against the chipped dark Formica of the table. Rosie covered her mouth with her hand and then grabbed loosely onto Martha's wrist.

'What happened, Martha please don't tell me you started again. Please.' Martha stared up at her with tears twinkling brightly in her eyes, her pale skin blemished with mascara tear trails.

'You… you knew before?' Martha shook gently, her eyes welling up and tears rolling down her cheeks in a slow trickle. 'I'm sorry.' She whispered, her voice hoarse and full of deep sadness. Rosie nodded, her eyes also full of diamond tears that sparkled in the light.

'I knew. I saw, I noticed that you went out alone and came back, skin pale and clammy and with your sleeves pulled far over your wrists. When you pulled them back they were covered in plasters. I knew.' Martha bit back a sob and Rosie stood, wrapping her tightly in her arms as Martha sobbed gently. John walked in and touched Rosie's shoulder, making her let go of Martha. There was a silence for a moment as John hugged Martha too and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.

**Enjoy please, and reviewwww? (:**


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